


The Young Dragon (NEEDS EDITING)

by Hankolijo



Series: The Forest of Aerilon [1]
Category: Aerilon - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Action, Action & Romance, Alcohol, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Car Chases, Character Death, Cults, Dark Comedy, Destruction, Gangs, Gen, Guns, Horror, Humor, Military, Monsters, Motorcycles, Rituals, Romance, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-10 14:49:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 49,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13503798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hankolijo/pseuds/Hankolijo
Summary: Jonestown is a small, bustling town in the North-East US, home to many renowned athletes, state-famous pop stars and multiple organized crime groups. During the day the careless and friendly residents of the area go about their business, not a worry in the world as the majority of them are in good relation with the mayor and know they can always come to a solution to any problem they encounter. But at night the town changes.As the lights go out and the regular folk go to sleep the traffic dies down and the criminals begin their work. Their attacks on the honest citizens are rare as they fight between each other and among themselves, vying to be the ones in charge.Those who lived lawful and peaceful lives had nothing to fear up until just recently. Several disappearences across town and brutal murders suggest that something far more sinister lurks in the shadows. The gangs might not be the town's biggest issue after all.But none of that is of concern to Hank, an 18-year-old senior at Jonestown High trying to make a name for himself. As a member of the renowned 'Masked Mob', he hopes that one day his name will be known throughout the country. And maybe, just maybe - he might score some along the way.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second attempt at writing a full book, based around characters from my early roleplaying days. Any critique is welcome as I'm still editing it!

PFC Orwell James opened the door leading to the uppermost floor of the wall, covering his eyes for a moment as the morning sun lit up his face. He stepped out and shut the door behind him, yawning and stretching his arms out. His biological clock was still all kinds of messed up from moving around the country this much.

CPL Stinson, a man five years older than James but with the looks of someone who was at least 40, was already on his morning patrol and gave James a nod as a greeting.

"Sleep well, Private?" he asked.

"Yes, Corporal. As well as I could," he responded and stepped up next to his superior to match his pace, saluting as he did. Orwell was a puffy-cheeked soldier with a slightly high-pitched voice earning him the nickname 'Squeakers' from his comrades. "Sargeant Maree not joining us today?"

"No, she's out on a hunt today." Orwell responded.

"Wait, already? Ain't it a bit early?" James asked, adjusting his rifle strap.

"She's been out for two hours now. Apparently tracking something nocturnal."

"Jeez. And here I am, complaining we have to wake up at five..."

Stinson let out a short laugh. "Don't worry, Private. You get used to it."

James nodded. It was then that Stinson's radio came to life.

"This is Jonestown checkpoint reporting in, we're under attack by a small force from the woods, over." spoke a lightly distorted, but overall calm voice. Orwell recognized it as Lance Corporal Wilson, one of the 'drones' as they called them - the people who were responsible for communications and the electronics at the wall.

Stinson took the radio off his belt and raised it up to his mouth. "This is Eastmost checkpoint, do you require assistance, over?"

"Negative, Eastmost, situation is under control, over."

"Roger that. Over and out." Stinson said, then placed the radio back on his belt. He turned to Orwell slightly and shrugged. "You'll notice this happens a lot, Private. Eastmost doesn't see much action; places like Jonestown, Aerilon and Deepwoods have nearby towns which seem to attract more attention. We don't really have much going on."

James nodded, slowly. "Right. Uh, apologies if it's  a dumb question to ask, sir - but what _is_ that checkpoint fighting?"

"Who knows," Stinson said. "Could be anything. Could be something as innocent as some wild animals, or it could be..."

The corporal then stopped as his head darted to the side to overlook the forest. He took a step towards the edge of the wall, squinting.

"Sir?"

"Something's not right," he answered and grabbed for his radio again.

"What do you mean?" Orwell asked. Stinson seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts as he raised the radio up to his face again.

For a moment time seemed to stop around them.

 

Before his recent reassignment and relocation, Orwell had been stationed in Iraq. He spent most of that time guarding ammo dumps and joining convoys in order to guard ammo dumps in other parts of the country. During his time there, he couldn't recall firing a gun once outside of training. He had always thought of himself out of harm's way back then.

That was until he saw one of his fellow soldiers step on an IED and be blown to bits before his very eyes.

 

In that moment on the wall, he felt like he was back in Iraq. It was as if a shadow had descended upon Stinson, the very embodiment of death. Blood washed over Orwell's frightened form as the corporal was impaled and torn to shreds in mere seconds. Just like back then, Orwell didn't even hear a scream. His ears started ringing and he felt bile build up in the back of his throat. He was frozen.

Stinson's body, or whatever was still left of it, dropped to the ground. As his radio dropped to the ground with a muffled 'smack', sirens began to blare around Orwell snapping him out from his trance.

He was a soldier. He had been trained to fight and to kill. The reason he had been assigned to this wall was to protect the people of the United States, to keep the innocent safe. He...

All of this rushed through his mind as he clutched for his rifle in a panic. The apparition in front of him didn't give him any time, though.

The private screamed in pain as something sharp and serrated pierced his arm. Blood started gushing out as the creature appeared to twist the blade in order to widen the wound. It then yanked the blade out, making Orwell stumble and fall on his back.

He wasn't a soldier. He was a scared child and nothing more. He always had been.

Still screaming, Orwell tumbled around and started to scramble towards the door. He heard yelling and gunfire nearby; his vision was blurry, but he could make out several figures running along the wall towards him. The private could almost hear the sound of hurried steps running up the stairs, too. If the other soldiers made it here in time, he'd be saved.

A moment later he felt blood burst out from his mouth. In an instant all feeling to his legs was gone. Shaking, he turned his head to see the same blade from before sticking out from the back of his spine. 

He screamed, but the scream was cut short as his head was disconnected from his body in one slice. For the briefest of moments, he saw his own body flung aside as the shadow swooped over him, across the wall.

For all it was worth, Eastmost had fallen.

 


	2. Prologue

Have you ever been so excited about something that throughout the entire day, all you could think about was that one thing? Have you felt so giddy and nervous that you zoned out completely? Well, this had been my life for the past month. I have a tendency to space out as is, but I had been doing so in the most inopportune times that month. I relized this as I felt a harsh smack to the back of my head, startling me and bringing me back into the real world... right in the middle of class. I grunted and turned my my head around to give whoever had done this a piece of my mind, but found myself face-to-face, or more accurately, face-to-chest with our homeroom teacher, Ms. Mahon.

I reluctantly peered up at her face and regretted the decision, as she proceeded to whack me once more on the forehead with her ruler.

"Lijon, you're on the verge of failing the majority of your classes," she said, glaring at me, ruler still pressed to my head. "I'd expect you to be a bit more worried and pay attention during my class."

I yawned at her for a response and she simply scoffed and went back to the front of the class to continue discussing grades with everyone else. Though to be honest, it didn't seem like the others cared that much, either; we were nearing the end of the school year and nobody in our class was in danger of _actually_ failing a class. Mahon just liked to try and freak me out. She didn't really ever succeed, though. Besides, it's not like I couldn't do any better in my classes - I just chose not to. I had more important things to do than homework.

Just before I was about to drift off again, the bell rang. This was the last of our classes for the day, so everyone hurried out, three of the girls running ahead of everyone. One of them, Sarah, tripped and fell flat on the ground as she was about to leave, earning a couple of laughs from the boys, though I kept my mouth shut. I had been there before myself.

Just as I was about to step through the door, however, Mahon called out my name from behind her desk. I froze up for a moment, muttered a swear and turned around to face her.

"Lijon, do you have any plans for what you want to do after finishing high school?" she asked.

I rubbed the back of my neck, avoiding eye contact with the woman. Just like most guys in our school, I found it awkward to talk to Ms. Mahon. She was a young, hot blonde just on the verge of breaking the dress code with how short her skirts always were and how tight she chose her tops to be. But at the same time she just had this weird feeling about her - she was strict and wouldn't hesitate to enforce minor physical punishments yet nobody would dare complain, not to her and not to the rest of the staff. For all we knew, maybe said staff were suffering as much as we were.

"Well, not really, I guess. Michael said his dad would be willing to hire me for something, but..."

"You? Working for Stender & Jones?" She asked, cutting me off and placing a hand in front of her mouth, chuckling. She then lowered it, a mischievous grin on her lips. "I doubt you'd last long, Lijon. But, I do have a small task I would like to ask of you." She then stood up and approached me. I felt a drop of cold sweat flow down the back of my neck, but I tried to keep composure.

"Y-y-yea?"

So much for that.

She snickered and placed her hand on my shoulder. "Meet me next Saturday evening in front of the school. Nine PM. Don't be late."

She then brushed past my arm and walked off, out the door and into the hall. I was now standing in the classroom alone, the stream of voices coming from outside not reaching my ears. I was sweating profusely, my mouth and throat all dried up despite the fact that I had hardly spoken at all. Slowly, I turned around and stepped out myself, with one thought in my mind: "Am I going to get laid?"

When I stepped out the front entrance, I was met by a group of my all-too-familiar fellow students. Michael Stender, son of business magnate Malcom Stender; Richard "Dick" Wick, a former street urchin and current thug; and our famed leader Wayne Bolmey, the guy who had brought us all together in the first place.  We made up the gang known in Jonestown as "The Masked Mob". Right now all three of them were idling around, seemingly waiting for me.

Wayne was the first to spot me come out. He nodded to the other two, then headed my way.

"You ready for tonight?" He asked. Now, upon first glance, Wayne did not seem pleasant.  His hair looked like it hadn't been washed in weeks, curly, unruly locks going in every direction. Whenever I saw him, he always had a decent amount of stubble covering his dark-skinned face. He was muscular, but not "captain of the swim team" muscular - more like "amateur weight lifter" muscular. And yet when he spoke his voice was somehow soothing, almost tender. I had heard him angry before, though, which was less than enjoyable to see and hear. To me, at least - I think Dick loved it.

I nodded. "Yeah. Hoping I haven't gotten too rusty... I should be good."

Wayne nodded in response, then dug out a small piece of paper out from his pocket and handing it to me. I took it and pocketed it without reading what was written on it.  I trusted him.

"We're going for a smoke if you want to tag along." Wayne suggested, gesturing back towards the other two with his head. Dick was currently fiddling with his jacket's buttons, too busy with his own thoughts to even notice me, while Michael gave me a wave. I waved back and turned to Wayne, shaking my head.

"Sorry. Need to get back home. Dad left me a message saying he wanted to talk about something," I explained. To be honest, up until this moment I had forgotten about it myself. I didn't have the best relationship with my dad, so it's not like I really cared - but if I wanted to go out tonight, I had to be on his good side for once.

"Ah. Alright. Meet up with you later, then." Wayne finally said before leaving, gesturing for the two others to follow. I huffed and started heading home. It had been an odd day so far, but it was only just the beginning.

As I walked, I looked out towards the city center. Outwardly, Jonestown was a suburban paradise. Jonestown High, the school I went to, was just a few blocks away from my house, located in what at least seemed to be a perfect suburbia. And yet if you drove just a mile into town you'd wind up in a concrete jungle, full of rampant crime, frequent disappearances and drug dens masquerading as factories or warehouses. From a planning standpoint, the city was a mess, too. While the lucky folks working either in the commercial district to the South or still studying at one of the schools could enjoy a lovely walk there and back, those working deeper in the city had it rough. You'd likely choose to walk, since the city was a mess of alleyways and poorly maintained roads; you'd work your eight hours in the darkness of the inner city, the light blocked by the other factories and shady apartment complexes, only to potentially get stabbed on the way home.

Yes, Jonestown was a lovely place to live for the wealthy and successful people in this world, but a shithole for the rest of us. There were, of course, those who defied it all - Michael was one of those people. He was the son of one of the most powerful businessmen in the US and had all the promise in the world - the kid was an honor student, an athlete, and ridiculously popular - but he had still joined our gang. Granted, I felt like that may have been my fault, but he had joined us never the less.

I had made it to my house by now. I knocked on the door twice, then stepped inside.

"I'm home!" I called out to whoever would be present. I knew my dad would be, but my mom was probably out shopping with her friends. That's what she usually found herself doing at this time of day.

I was about to head upstairs and unpack my bag when my dad peered out from the living room to the left. My father was a somewhat heavy-set man in his forties, with a thick, black beard and lots of hair on the rest of his body, too - except for his head, of course.

"Son, get in here. We gotta talk," he said. His voice was never stern or commanding - matter of fact, unless you really pissed him off, he was rather soft spoken. Even so, him wanting to talk like this was usually not a good sign.

I bit my lip, but followed him into the room. He took a seat in his usual chair in front of the TV while I sat down on the couch to his left, setting my bag down beside me.

"Son, I know you and I haven't had the easiest relationship over the past couple of years. It's been rough, for, uh, for the both of us." He spoke without confidence, like it took him effort to get the words out of his mouth. I could almost sense his throat drying up.

"Uh huh."

"And... I also know you've been planning work for that Stender bastard. Now if that's what you choose, I won't stop you. But I won't respect you, either."

One thing that should be mentioned would be that my father, despite being a college dropout and nuisance to society, was a computer _genius_. If you told the guy to make any type of software or hack into anywhere and then set him down in front of a screen for long enough, he'd do it. Luckily, we hadn't had to deal with the cops busting in to take him off just yet. Still, it was only a matter of time.

"Listen to me, boy." He continued. "I've seen your grades. If you go work at some big company like that Stender's bender, you're looking at no chance at growth. But I've seen you work on cars and bikes. I see you got _something_ in you that just lets you figure out how things tick." At this point he had produced his laptop from behind the chair and handed it to me. At first what I looked at seemed like nothing but gibberish, but when I stared at it for a while longer I realized it was some sort of blueprint.

I then looked back up at the bearded man, an eyebrow raised. "Is this, like... a mech or something?"

"It is, son. And I want to make it with you. Granted, we'll need to get all the materials and funding from somewhere, but the code is basically all written up. The thing is fully designed. If we just build a working prototype, well... This thing could revolutionize all kinds of things. Law enforcement, warfare, rescue services. You name it."

While I personally only found one of those three things even slightly worthwhile, I didn't comment. I simply paused, then handed the laptop back to him. "I'll think about it, dad. It does seem pretty cool."

He gave a smile as he took his device back. I picked up my backpack and sauntered off, up the stairs and into my room. I planted myself on my bed face-down, dropping my bag down on the floor. Today had been a weird day, and my head was full of all kinds of thoughts.

What _was_ I going to do after all this? Did I really plan to stay with The Masked Mob after I graduate? Tonight was our biggest gig yet, and I felt like it might have to be our last with how risky it was. Michael was probably going to move somewhere else for college - somewhere high-class and preppy, no doubt. The other two would likely stay in Jonestown - Wayne already had a job, and I doubted he'd keep the gang thing up much longer. And Dick...

Dick was resourceful.

Were Ms. Mahon and my dad right? Did I really have no place in Stender's company? And now there were this weird propositions both from my teacher and my dad. I was yet to figure out what Mahon's offer really meant, but at some point I found myself considering the career path of a male hooker or stripper, though I quickly dispersed these thoughts. In my experience thus far in life, those career paths were _not_ for me.

I rubbed my face, heading over to my desk. On it stood a small mirror, right next to my terrarium. I looked at myself in the mirror for a moment. I didn't think I was ugly. Not particularly hot - I wasn't on Michael's level, but I had Dick beat, I would say.  Maybe I was equal to Wayne in some bizarre way. My black hair was a bit of a mess to deal with, but I kept it short so it wasn't too much of a problem. I wanted to maybe grow out a beard, but it grew out all weird and splotchy, so I strayed away from that, opting to keep a clean shave. My eyes... I don't know, I guess they were always kind of bleary and tired looking. The more I looked, the more I judged myself. Damn it, guys weren't meant to do or care about this stuff!

I simply sighed and looked to the terrarium next to the mirror. I peeked inside to see Gacko, my lizard, sitting in the middle of the tank. I popped it open and stuck my hand in, letting the little guy crawl onto my arm. Somehow, he felt slower than usual. I guessed he was getting as tired as I was of everything.

I then placed Gacko back inside, refilled his water dispenser and laid down on my bed. I closed my eyes for a moment trying to just think, but instead I found myself dozing off. I had an alarm set for tonight. Not like I had to worry too much, right..?

 

 


	3. Familiar Feelings

I was woken up by the sound of my phone playing one of those default jingles that they come loaded with at full volume. I blinked my eyes open and stared at my phone for a moment. I had set it beside me so that I wouldn't miss the alarm and then I... Well, apparently, I passed out.

I slowly sat up on my bed with my elbows on my knees and my face buried in my hands. Fuck, I was tired. For a month now my sleep schedule had been all kinds of fucked up, ever since Wayne had told us about tonight's plan. I wiped my forehead with my shirt's sleeve then dug through my pocket. I pulled out the piece of paper handed to me by Wayne and unfolded it. On it was an address, a warehouse in the industrial district. It was quite a walk from my place but I had the time. It was currently 7 o'clock, while tonight's gig would start at 9.  After checking to see if I had any messages, I pocketed both my phone and the address in case I forgot it. Wouldn't be the first time.

I stood up from my bed and shuffled over to the mahogany wardrobe on the opposite side of the room. I opened it up and pushed aside all my clothes to get to a box in the back. I pulled it out, popped open the lid and took out the cloak and mask inside. These were our calling cards - each one of us had a differently colored cloak and a mask of intricate design. My cloak in particular was stark white, my mask painted to look like on of those long-ass Asian dragons. In the night I stood out like a sore thumb, but that was exactly my purpose in all of this.

I emptied my bag and stuffed the two items in it, slung the bag over my shoulder and hurried downstairs. When I made it to the front door, I tossed a quick look towards the living room.

"Dad, I'm going out with my friends. Tell mom I'll be home late!" I called out and left without waiting for his response.

The sun was already setting, the cold breeze sending the sound of happy, screaming children from down the block my way. I hated it. Doing my best to ignore the white noise that was the joy of children, I started walking towards the city center.

When I made it out of the suburbs the evening got a whole lot quieter. Once or twice a car passed by, someone probably heading back from work or a party, or something. The city usually died out like this during the evening, since it was too late for the regular folks to feel safe but too early for the criminals to act without worry.

Walking into the industrial district by foot was always a somewhat harrowing experience. As I passed the first row of apartment houses on the block, I was hit by a pungent smell - the mixture of industrial smog and human excrement. It wasn't exactly pleasant, but after all these years I had gotten used to it.

As I turned into an alleyway, I jumped back as I had almost stepped into what appeared to be the remains of a dead rat. Ugh. The poor thing had probably been eviscerated by some alley cat, then left there. I had disturbed an entire colony of flies which had chosen the creature as a place to lay their eggs. Only slightly disturbed by the sight, I stepped around it and walked out on the other side of the alley, now just a couple buildings away from the warehouse.

I approached the back entrance and rubbed my shoulders, letting out a breath to see it form a little cloud of vapor in front of me. The sun had set and it looked like it was going to be a cold night. That was just _great_ for what I had to do.

I knocked twice, then once, then twice and opened the door. I shut it behind myself and gave the room I was in a good look. The warehouse appeared like it had been abandoned decades ago. It was completely dilapidated and looked like it could come crashing down any moment. Personally, I hoped that it'd wait until after I left.

Among the broken glass, half-spilled garbage bags, rusted chunks of metal, rubble and wooden beams from the collapsed roof three things stood out - two were tarps covering something, one of them much larger than the other, the smaller one about a meter in height and the bigger one about one and a half. The third thing to stand out on the bleak background was a person.

It was a young woman with olive colored skin, definitely no older than 25, leaning against the larger tarp with a cigarette in her mouth. She was tall, taller than me, and had an athletic build. She was wearing a well-fitting pair of jeans, leather jacket, and her hair was on the shorter side and swept to the right, giving her a slightly tomboyish look. Still, she was good looking, and distinctly out of my league.

"Uh. Hey. I'm Hank." I tried to introduce myself, giving the girl a wave. As I stepped closer, she looked me over head to toe then took her cigarette out from between her teeth, puffing out a cloud of smoke.

"You're early." She commented, checking the time on a watch on her wrist. I instinctively pulled out my phone and checked the time as well. Granted, it was 20 minutes until we were supposed to start, but I felt like I had arrived appropriately. I just shrugged.

"Tsk. Alright, might as well let you see what you'll be driving." The woman said, placing the cig back in her mouth and pushing herself off the tarp. I hurried my step as she pulled off the cover from the smaller object, revealing a brand-spanking-new Suzuki GSX-R750. A smile crept up on my face at the sight of this beauty. For the longest time I had driven a Hyosung GT650, but the poor thing had gotten totaled last month. Luckily, I wasn't _on it_ at the time, but it was still a damn shame.

But, really, if that happening meant I was getting this bad boy, then I was all for it. Michael had agreed to pay for a new bike, and let me choose whatever I wanted in the 3k range. This thing wasn't just fast - the handling was the important part, and few bikes out there really shined like this one. Well, few that weren't way out of my price range.

"Name's Robin, by the way. Robin Bolmey." The woman introduced herself. I nodded, still just staring at the bike, but had to do a double take.

"Bolmey? You're related to Wayne?" I asked, surprised.

"Yeah, Wayne's my cousin. Hadn't seen him in ages, but he said he got a job I could help you folks out with. Never really got into the whole gang business, but family's still family." She said, then checked the time again. "Still got like 15 minutes left. You can probably take that thing out for a spin, get used to it and all."

She didn't have to say it twice. I smiled wide, hopped onto the bike and started the engine immediately. Hearing the hum of the engine brought back a lot of great memories. Even though I hadn't ridden a bike for a month now, I knew I still had it in me - you couldn't forget it, after all, it was like... er, riding a bike. Suppose that saying does make sense.

"Just make sure you're back in time. All on you if you fuck this up for us, Hank." The girl said, leaning back against the tarp once more. She then pulled out a small remote and pressed a button, the metal door at the front of the warehouse starting to raise up with a nasty metallic screech.

Before I set off, I decided to put on my mask and cloak - couldn't be too careful with who could see me tonight. Of course, doing this when I was already on the bike wasn't the brightest idea; I nearly fell as I tossed the cloak over my shoulder, my mask resting on the top of my head.

Robin snickered. "You sure you're gonna be alright? No offense, but you really don't look the part."

"Yeah, I get that a lot. Uh, I'm better once I get going." I responded, revved up the engine and set off out the door, Robin chuckling as I left. The cool night breeze hit my face, a feeling I had missed dearly for the past month. It didn't last long, though, as I slowed down and placed the mask properly over my face. It was one of those plastic Halloween masks, a friend of Wayne's had made it for me; the mask had wider eye holes than these would normally have, so I would actually have _some_ peripheral vision. It was important for the part I usually played in these jobs.

I sped up once more, heading for 9th street, the longest stretch of straight road in Jonestown. I swung the bike around as I reached the end of the road, grinning to myself behind my mask as I raised the front tire and charged down the empty road, buildings and streetlights zooming by as I picked up speed in a matter of seconds. When I entered a skid near the end and turned the corner, I was driving at around 120 km/h. This thing was a fuckin' beast, and I was its master!

God, that was cheesy. Forget I said that.

Having had my fun, I slowed down a bit and started driving back to the warehouse. There were about 8 minutes left before Robin and I had to set off for what would be The Masked Mob's biggest heist yet. I took a deep breath as I stopped in front of the building. Somewhere in town a dog howled, almost feeling like an omen of sorts. Couldn't say if it was a good one. I lifted my mask just as the door started raising up, releasing the same screech as before.

In front of me was a black 2005 Ford Mustang GT, Robin in the driver seat with her hand resting outside the window. This must've been what was under that tarp. Now, I was never a car nut, but I had to day, that was a pretty cool looking car.

"You warmed up now, Hank?" she asked, smirking.

I gave her a thumbs up, as my mask would probably have muffled my voice. She nodded, pulled her hand in and drove out, the metal door shutting behind her. The two of us set off with her at the front, towards what was going to be our target tonight.

Another warehouse, this one owned by the Red Crows - the biggest gang in the entire town. We were going to take a bat to the hornet's nest tonight.

 


	4. Chase

I brought the bike to a stop behind Robin's car, but kept the engine running. I got off the bike and stored my backpack in the trunk of the car, then looked to our right, at the building owned by the Red Crow Gang. Unlike the one we used to keep our actions on the down-low, this place was in pristine condition, operating under the guise of a warehouse used by one of the nearby furniture factories - said factory being yet another front for the Red Crows.  
  
This town was a gang-ridden shithole. It wasn't always like that - apparently just ten or so years ago, it was a promising, developing city full of prospecting businessmen. But, as a result of bad foresight and rampant corruption among the town's authorities, several sprawling criminal organizations found their homes here. The mayor, John Backston, has remained the same all this time, likely thanks to support from those very same organizations, but people like us couldn't complain.  
  
The best part about it? Even the regular people didn't care. Some five years ago, they'd freak out and demand the authorities that they do something each time there was a shooting or the like, but over time, mayor Backston had lulled everyone into a false sense of security. The gangs very rarely targeted civilians, and most of the time they kept the fighting to themselves - Jonestown was a center for drug trafficking, illegal arms trade and many more wonderful things. They didn't want to attract unwanted government attention by actually committing crimes the people gave a shit about.  
  
While our gang had only formed fairly recently, the Red Crows had been here from the start. Many of their members had roots in South America, and many believed they had ties to the cartels, but there was little actual evidence of this. Not that evidence would matter at this point.  
  
While Robin opened the doors facing the building and lit up another cigarette, I went over the plan in my head one last time. Last week, the Red Crows had sold a massive shipment of something to some country-wide organization. We didn't know what or to whom, but it was a huge sell. According to an informant hired by Michael, a portion of that money was currently being kept in the office of Inocencio Martinez, one of the gang's heads. That money was our target.  
  
The informant had made sure that the place would be empty tonight, allowing our guys to get in. Michael was on lookout, while Wayne and Dick broke in and got the cash. The office had a silent alarm, and we were expecting their gang to respond in a matter of minutes. If everything was going to plan...  
  
My thoughts were disturbed and my head jerked up at the sound of screeching tires. With how late it was, there was little doubt in my mind about who that was. I turned my head towards the warehouse just as three figures in cloaks and masks much darker than mine ran out from the building. Dick, in a dark green cloak and orc-face mask was running at the front, carrying a large duffel bag over his shoulder. Behind him was Wayne, wearing a red devil mask and carrying a similar, but much lighter bag in one hand and a pistol in the other. At the back was Michael, a classic Dracula mask on his face and an S&W SW1911 in his hands.  
  
While Dick and Michael made a dash for the car, Wayne ran around, tossing me the bag and the gun in the process.  
  
"We're counting on ya, Hank!" He called out to me as he threw the door open and jumped in, Robin stepping on the gas and speeding off. I hurriedly slung the bag over my shoulder and hopped back onto my bike, just as another car turned the corner behind me. With a red crow painted on its hood, there was no mistaking it - these were the flashy bastards we were dealing with.  
  
I started driving, pointing the gun in my hand - a custom-made M1911 - behind myself, firing twice. I was no marksman, and the bullets were blanks, intended to simply attract the gang's attention to me. My outfit and the fake dollar bills peeking out from the bag, occasionally falling behind me, served much the same purpose.  
  
Unfortunately, it didn't seem like these guys were as into role play, as they quickly opened fire on me from their windows with actual bullets. Perfect.  
  
I dodged and weaved to avoid getting shot in the back, turning corners while going into skids so that less of my body was exposed to them. It was a risky job for sure, but I couldn't get distracted by that now, not when the danger was right fucking there.  
  
I drifted around another corner, onto 9th street. This was my chance to get away. I tossed the gun in my hand aside, then threw the bag filled with little more than stacks of paper behind myself. With the Red Crow car trailing right behind me, their windshield was smashed in, the driver stepping on the brakes and swerving to avoid crashing, various Spanish expletives slowly growing farther and farther away from me. I let out a sigh of relief, but did so a bit early, as another car with the red crow on it pulled out in front of me.  
  
I didn't have much time to react. Later I was glad to have had time to practice a little bit beforehand, as I would probably have died otherwise.  
  
9th street had few other streets coming off of it. The mayor wasn't the only asshole with bad foresight - the city planners seemed to have been in on it, too. This left me with very few options, but I knew the city well. I had driven down these roads countless times, every movement I took coming to me almost naturally. I entered a skid, just like I had done earlier, but I didn't just turn right, which would have taken me onto the road leading to that abandoned warehouse. I rolled my back tire as I spun the bike around, turning myself 180 degrees back in the direction I had come from.  
  
The direction in which the other car was, too.  
  
To them, I was trapped now, guns pointed at me from either direction, with no road I could take to avoid the gunfire. But to them, I was also the guy who had driven off with their money, so that showed exactly how much they really knew.  
  
I came to a near halt, turning into an alleyway just as they opened fire, bullets whizzing by behind me. It was a tight squeeze for sure, having to occasionally swerve as to not run into a dumpster, but it was my only shot. I came out the other side of the alleyway, but quickly reentered another one. I was playing cat and mouse with these idiots.  
  
After about five minutes of covering up my own tracks like this, I stopped the bike's engine for a moment and listened. The night had fallen completely silent. I was sure they were still around, though, likely preparing to mobilize their gang to look for me, if they hadn't already. I started the engine again, having stopped in the alley not too far from our warehouse. I looked down, at the ground, noting that the dead rat was gone, probably dragged off by the same cat that had killed it. I let out a breath and started slowly inching my way forward, out of the alleyway and onto the road ahead.  
  
It seemed I had successfully evaded the Red Crows, at least for now. I drove my bike over to the back entrance and got off. I then opened the door and pushed it in myself.  
  
As I stepped through, a wad of cash hit me in the face.  
  
"Good work, Hank!" called out Dick, who had just thrown said wad of cash at me. The others were idling about, Michael on his phone while Wayne and Robin counted over the cash. "We didn't even see the crows once tonight!"  
  
"...Fan-fucking-tastic."  
  
  



	5. Celebration

I had returned home last night by foot. It wasn't the most pleasant experience: I had to duck into an alleyway three or four times to avoid being seen by the Red Crows. When I got home, it was already around 3AM. I had quickly passed out, and woken up at nearly 10 AM the next morning.

I had gone through my usual morning routine - getting cleaned up, getting dressed - like I normally had, but then noticed something. Gacko was still sitting where I had left him, with his water dispenser completely untouched. The poor guy had died at some point.

This little bearded dragon had been my pet for the majority of my life. I had seen the little guy in a pet shop when I was 7 or 8, and asked my mom if I could have it. Apparently, I thought it was a gecko, which at the time I pronounced more like 'Gacko', which is how he got his name. For a couple of years after that, it was mostly my dad that took care of it until I was in my teens and actually had _some_ sense of responsibility. 

Losing this stupid little lizard was rough, especially after the night I had had yesterday. So, when Michael called and offered to have a drink at Wayne's place, I agreed.

Wayne's house was halfway between the suburbs and the industrial area. It was quite a ways away from any other houses, and for a good reason - the place was down the block from a sewage treatment plant, and would oftentimes reek like hell. Still, inside it was a lot more homely, with a recreational area and a sort of bar in the basement, which we usually liked to hang out at. 

That's where  I met Michael that day. It was still early, and he would've had to stay up about as late as I did last night, but he already seemed to be fresh as a fuckin' mug. Michael was the type of person who you either loved or hated - for most chicks it was the former, for most guys it was the latter. 

For me? Well, we were great friends, had been since elementary school, but if we hadn't been, I'd probably hate his fucking guts. He was tall, handsome, athletic, rich as shit and ridiculously popular. To everyone at our school, I was his unlikely sidekick, the guy they'd look at and wonder 'why the hell would Michael associate himself with this guy?'. Trust me when I say that's a _great_ feeling.

But never the less, he hung out with us, essentially a band of hoodlums with access to way too many resources. As we picked up a pair of pool cues and set up a game of eight-ball, I actually felt like asking him.

"Hey, why is it that you decided to join the gang, dude?" I asked.

"Because you kept pestering me about it for weeks, Hank. You're a friend, I trusted Wayne," he responded, but paused  as he took his shot, sending the cue ball into the other balls, pocketing a striped ball. "And I've grown to almost tolerate Dick."

"Well, yeah, but you'd usually be the one to talk me out of crazy shit. Hell, I couldn't convince you to try out motorcycling. You just told me to fuck off." 

"I find bikes impractical and downright dangerous, and think it's a bloody miracle you survived last night with one." 

As Michael spoke, he sunk two more striped balls. I was starting to recall why it had been so long since the last time we played. 

"Pretty sure starting a gang in a town _infested_ with gangs to begin with is a bit more dangerous than riding a bike. You know, just a tad." I commented, resting my chin on my pool cue.

"Sure, but in the case of motorcycles, the risk of you dying would've been about the same as mine if I had picked up the hobby. With this shit, however, you were probably going to die in a week if I hadn't joined to help you out. Two weeks tops." Two shots, two more sunk balls.

"So, you joined so that I wouldn't die?"

"Sort of. There was that, and it seemed fun." Another ball went in. I felt my eyebrows sink lower as I started to realize that I was _not_ going to get the chance to actually play. "Plus, chicks dig the bad boys. Robin last night? Totally into me."

I arched a brow at that. It wouldn't be uncommon for girls to swoon over this bastard's good looks, but Robin didn't seem like she'd be so easily impressed by a pretty face. "Really? How'd you figure that?"

"She handed me her number, dude." Michael answered, now just showing off as he attempted a shot with his back turned. Luckily for my pride, he missed. Less luckily for my pride, as I moved my pool cue away from my chin to play, I nearly fell over. 

"Uh, hate to burst your bubble, bro, but she gave her number to all of us. Those are called business cards. She was offering us driver services." I said, placing my cue onto the table and taking aim. I sure had a lot targets to choose from.

"No, you see, she gave me her cell number, not her business number."

"Her cell number is the same as her business number, but I do think she liked you, Mikey!" A voice called out from the door, distracting me just as I was taking my shot and result in me just gently smacking the ball to the side. I looked over, my left eyelid just slightly twitching, to see Dick and Wayne, Wayne being the one that said that.

"Damn, Hank, you look like you're ready to shoot someone today! Didn't get your beauty sleep in this morning?" Asked Dick, smacking me on the back as he passed by on his way over to the bar. Michael, meanwhile, proceeded to sink the last two striped balls. 

"Think so, Wayne?" The rich boy asked, spinning the cue in his hands as he walked around the table for what would be his final shot. "Might just call 'er up and ask her out. Hope you wouldn't mind." 

"Go for it, Mikey. You're one of the few motherfuckers out there I'd actually trust with her. Sure as hell wouldn't trust Dick. And Hank..." He then looked towards me.

I looked back, and there was a short pause as I turned my head and glanced between everyone in the room, before all three of them started laughing. I rolled my eyes, but did join them. As the laughter died out, though, I grinned, leaning on my pool cue again.

"Laugh all you want, jackasses. But you aren't the ones who got a date with Mahon."

This time, it was Michael's turn to completely whiff, while Dick spat out the beer in his mouth. Wayne stopped midway to the bar and turned to me again. "Mahon, your homeroom teacher? The one that's so hot, Dick said he'd suck the-"

"Hey, hey, I was drunk and quoting Jimmy Carr. But, fuck, Hank, you're bullshittin' through your teeth. The fuck she want with you?" Dick asked, beginning to wipe up his spill after receiving a stern look from Wayne.

"Clearly, she's after the whole awesome package." I said _half-_ jokingly. This was the one cool thing I had going for me, plus the bike thing. I was gonna milk it for all its got.

"Maybe she wants a virgin, and you're the safest bet in the entire school," jokingly suggested Michael.

"Or the entire town," came a suggestion from Wayne. 

"Country," finally added Dick.

"Shut the fuck up, dickheads," was my final say in the discussion, as I sunk the 8-ball. 

Then proceeded to yell at the gods.

 

The next morning, with a much clearer mind, I set off for a tattoo parlor in the commercial area. Dick, despite being a bit of a twat, occasionally came up with some pretty cool ideas, and the previous day he had suggested we get tattoos to commemorate our first big heist. It seemed like a pretty badass idea, especially when you consider how pissed off the crows would be if they knew how easy it would be to identify the thieves. Plus, it wasn't like we didn't have the cash for it - after that heist, we pretty much had the money for anything we wanted.

The tattoo shop was tucked away between a corner store and computer repair shop on 19th street. I had never been here before, and wondered how a place like this stayed afloat in a small town like Jonestown. At the same time, however, I understood that in Jonestown, it was probably better not to ask. 

I entered the shop and looked around. The walls were covered in examples of various designs, most of them your generic tattoo shit - barbed wire, roses, hearts with arrows going through them, shit like that. There seemed to be two tattoo artists in at the moment, one of them actually working on Dick, the other busy with some other client. Wayne and Michael were waiting on the side, Michael smirking as he stared at his wrist.

I walked over, giving everyone a wave. "Yo. You already get yours done?" I asked, looking towards Michael. He nodded, showing me his arm. On his wrist, he had four circles, each colored differently - white, dark green, deep red and dark gray. The same colors as our respective capes. For Michael, the gray was the one facing his hand.

"Sweet," I said, looking down at my own, still blank wrist. I bit my lip a bit, then looked up at the other two. "Actually, I think I'll be getting two tattoos today."

"Two?" Asked Wayne.

"Yeah. One on my wrist, and one on my... left shoulder, I think. Of Gacko." I answered, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Your lizard? How come?" Michael inquired, looking up from his wrist.

"He actually died that night. He'd been my pet for years. Feels right to do it, you know."

"Gaaaaay," interjected Dick from his seat.

"Hey, Dick, come on now. We've all had to lose a pet, it can be rough," said Wayne, then turned towards me. "But it _is_ pretty gay."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah, fuck off. I'll use my own cut of the cash for it. Is Dick's almost done?" I asked, looking over at him just as he was standing up. I guessed that was a yes. It also seemed like the other guy was done with his tattoo as well, so Wayne and I got to start roughly at the same time. 

I had brought a picture of Gacko with me, which earned more mockery from the others, but the artist seemed to be cool with it. I was sure he must've had plenty of experience with tattoos of pets - usually not lizards, though, I would guess.

It took several hours, Michael and Dick hanging around since Wayne had to go to his part-time job, but the tattoo was done. I turned my neck slightly to get a better look, a grin appearing on my face. The tattoo really looked just like the little guy. "So, guys? Pretty cool, huh?"

"You should work out more, Hank." Said Michael as he looked at my shirtless body, slurping on a smoothie he had went and bought a little while ago.

"I still think it's gay, dude." Responded Dick.

At the end of the day, I actually wondered why _I_ was in this gang, and why I was friends with any of them.

 


	6. Oddities

 

I woke up the next morning ten minutes or so before my alarm rang. My shoulder was sore, and I groaned as I sat up, placing a hand on my forehead. It had been another restless night, though I wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because I was now worried about the Red Crows finding us and dealing with us, maybe it was just because I wasn't used to my new tattoos - the one on my wrist was still wrapped up, but I had taken the bandages off my shoulder the night before since they'd be a bit uncomfortable to sleep with. Luckily for me, it didn't look like I had bled all over my bed, which was a good start, I thought.

I slowly got out of bed and dragged myself to the bathroom. I walked over to the sink and started washing my face, when something caught my eye. As I checked the mirror again, I noticed that my left shoulder, while it was, in fact, aching, was completely blank. My right shoulder had the tattoo instead.

I had to pause and think for a moment. Had I asked for the right shoulder instead, or explained it poorly to the artist, and then just not noticed it? It was possible I had just slept wrong last night, and that's why my shoulder hurt? It seemed a bit bizarre to me, but I shrugged it off, continuing with my morning routine, starting by carefully cleaning my tattoos - the artist had warned me that they'd probably bleed and ooze for a couple of days, then flake off as scabs before fully healing, but they seemed fine to me. As I went along with my routine, I still passed by Gacko's plastic cage, so used to checking up on him, but other than that, proceeded on normally.

I headed downstairs with my backpack on my shoulder, into the kitchen. Both of my parents were there, my mom busy talking on her phone while my dad was having his morning coffee and toast. My mom was almost ten years younger than my dad, and quite good looking for her age. Granted, she made sure she was - she was always out shopping for clothes, make-up and accessories, or visiting spas and hairdressers. My dad loved her, but at times it felt like she just stuck around to spend all his cash. Right now, despite it being so early in the morning, she was already dressed in a blue suit jacket and skirt, high-heeled shoes and had her blonde hair done up in a bun on top of her head.

I greeted them both with a 'good morning', heading to make myself some toast as well. I mostly zoned out my mom's conversation, her mostly talking about some nice pair of shoes she bought last night, and not seeing some Ellen for weeks. I sat down in front of my dad with my toast, and the old man looked up at me.

"So, son, have you thought about my proposal?" He asked.

Honestly, I hadn't given it much thought. Other stuff had occupied my mind for these past couple of days, but now that all that was behind me... a mech sounded like a fucking awesome idea.

I nodded. "I have. I'm in, dad."

"Attaboy. There is, however, just one little problem," he continued. "Funding."

"Funding? I mean, no offense, but I don't think I've ever seen you be concerned with money. Couldn't you hack into some rich guy's bank account and get the cash we need?"

At this point in our discussion, mom had scoffed at both of us for being so rude, and left the room to continue her phone conversation somewhere more quiet.

My dad chuckled. "I guess that would be how I'd usually do this, but the thing is - this could be my shot at no longer needing to do that. No longer having to do these shady jobs, and, well, no longer having to live in Jonestown," he responded, making me crunch down a little too hard on my toast and nearly bite my tongue.

"Leave Jonestown? Really?"

"Mhm. I know you like it here, but... every day, I worry. I know I don't really have to, we haven't messed with anyone important in town, or any of the criminals in general, but still, I worry. I worry about you and your mother, to be exact. I'm what you could call a hardened criminal at this point, but you two are innocent. Staying here is not safe for you, and possibly because of me."

I nodded slowly. Dad had no idea about my 'nightly activities', so he assumed I was one of the law-abiding citizens. To him, mom and I were in danger because of his actions, though during this conversation, I started to really worry about the two of them in case the Red Crows find out who robbed them.

"But if I ever want to leave this place with my head on my shoulders, I'll need backing - legal backing."

"Right. And how can I help?"

My dad clasped his hands together, interlocking his fingers and rubbing his thumbs. He seemed frustrated. "I want you to speak with your friend, Stender's son. I hate that man and everything his company stands for, but there's no denying that they're loaded," he said, pulling out a small stack of papers and handing it to me, "and that we need cash to pull this off. Show this to your friend, and have him pass it on to his father. You're on good terms with the Stender kid, have him tell that bastard that it's from some unknown entrepreneur. If he knows it's from me, he'll never agree."

I took the papers and flipped through them. Most of it appeared to be development logs for the software, with just a few diagrams here and there, as well as a proposal for how much all of it would cost. My eyes widened at the number.

"Jesus, half a million?"

"At the least, yes. For a very bare-bones prototype."

I huffed out some air, going from looking up at the number, back up to the smiling bearded man, then back to the number once more.

"Fuck. Alright, I'll try, but I can't promise anything." I said, finishing my toast as I stuffed the papers into my backpack. I then checked the time and got up from my chair. "Alright, I'm off. See ya, dad."

My walk was rather uneventful, several cars passing by me on the road, people heading off for work and the like. I recognized a couple of cars as belonging to some of my teachers or an occasional student, and that was about it.

I arrived at school 20 minutes before the ball rang, my first lesson for that day being homeroom. Ms. Mahon was at it again, having arrived in a red miniskirt and slightly unbuttoned white blouse, earning some unsavory looks from the girls in class, while the guys certainly didn't mind. I looked around the room before the bell rang, noting that the class seemed a bit emptier than usual. In total, there were 19 kids in our class, 8 of them girls and 11 guys, including me. Today, there were 10 of us present, half the girls not being accounted for.

I wasn't the most popular guy in class. Matter of fact, I wasn't very well liked. Occasionally, a girl would try to befriend me to get closer to Michael, but as soon as they realized that didn't work, they went right back to ignoring me. I wouldn't call myself an outcast - few exceptions aside, I handled myself fine socially, it's just that I wasn't one to strike up conversations.

My position, sitting in the back, mostly unnoticed, however, let me see exactly what was going on in the class most of the time. I could tell that Jim, the musclehead jock, was the center of attention among the guys, likely having scored yesterday - whether in a game or with a cheerleader was up for question. Two of the girls seemed to be upset with each other, exchanging agitated looks while pouting at one another. I would guess they'd be friends again by the end of the day.

But the other two girls present seemed... scared. They kept glancing at each other as well, but it seemed like they were looks seeking reassurement where they could expect none. It was odd, and something I noted I should try and figure out.

The class started like it normally would, with Mahon asking everyone to rise and sit back down, letting everyone know what we'd be discussing today – what to do for our graduation ceremony, considering a field trip for the end of the year, shit like that. Then, she started going down the list to see who's present.

When she got to one of the girls, Jane, I heard something most seemed not to notice. A little gasp passed the lips of one of the girls, the other giving her friend a startled look. Mahon simply carried on, noting down that Jane was absent.

Something was definitely off. Everyone else seemed to be concerned with their own business, not paying any mind to the two girls. They were quiet for the rest of the lesson, as was I – of course, in my case, my quietness earned me a smack to the back of the head – and when the bell rang, the two of them seemed to lag behind, apparently wanting to talk away from everyone else.

I decided to approach them. I knew one of them, Mary, pretty well. Half a year ago, she had essentially pretended to be my girlfriend for a month or so in an attempt to get with Michael. Tossing my bag over my shoulder, I walked over, smooth as I can be.

"Hey- "

"Could you leave us alone?"

"Oh, okay."

As smooth as sandpaper gets.

No problem. It wasn't like I was _that_ interested in what was going on. So, I simply shrugged it off and left. It was entirely coincidence that when the two came out from the room a few minutes later, I just so happened to be idling around in the hall. And we had the same lesson, so it was natural that I ended up trailing behind them.

Acting as a decoy and lookout for so long gives you a pretty good ear. Even though the two barely spoke above a whisper, I was able to piece together their conversation. The fact that the hall was a bit loud with the sounds of dozens of ongoing conversations actually helped me out, as they occasionally had to speak up a bit.

"I'm scared, Mary. So very scared," said one of the girls. Her name was Sarah, and she was new to the class this year. She was a shy, cute, short and unassuming redhead from the North-West, and rarely spoke even on regular days.

"It's going to be fine, Sarah. In a couple of days, it'll all blow over and it'll be fine," responded Mary. Mary was almost the exact opposite to Sarah. She was a tall, attractive, charming dark-haired girl who would regularly flirt with most of the guys in class. _Most._

"I know, but..." Sarah paused, brushing her hands against her skirt, tugging at its sides. "I still think it's just so... horrible."

"I know, but so long as we do as we planned, it'll all work out," Mary said again. At that point, however, she stopped, making me jump behind the nearest vending machine, pressing my back against it. I waited for ten seconds or so before peeking around gain, the pair continuing their way to the next class.

As I stood there, considering if I should try and keep following them, I was startled as someone placed a hand on my shoulder. I spun my head to see Michael, looking at me with an arched brow.

"Y'know, Hank, I know you're kind of a creep, but this might be a weird, new low for you," he commented.

"Oh, hush. Those two chicks are up to something. Don't know what, but they're acting real weird. Something about Jane, she's not at school today."

"That's a shame, I like seeing Mary and Jane together," responded Michael.

We then fist bumped.

 

"Oh, Michael, I actually have something to talk to you about," I decided to mention before I forgot. It was then, however, that the bell rang. "Meet you on the roof during lunch?" I offered.

"Sure. Try not to stalk any more girls in the meantime, alright?" Michael said, patted me on the shoulder and headed off. I rolled my eyes and got going to my next lesson myself.

What followed was an uneventful math lesson, a dull history lesson where our teacher had already given up on getting us to listen to him at the end of the year, and a PE lesson during which, frankly, I mostly idled around.

Finally came our lunch break. I was already heading up the stairs when the bell rang, and when I opened the door leading to the roof, Michael was already there. He was leaning against the railing, a cigarette in his hand. As I was opening the door, I could tell he was ready to flick the cig off the side of the roof if I had turned out to be a teacher. Seeing that it was just me, he put it back between his teeth.

"So, what did you want to talk about, Hank?" he asked.

"Alright, so, you know how my dad's a hacker?"

"Mhm."

"And how he occasionally does these big, weird, ambitious projects?"

"Right."

"Well, he's doing one now that needs funding, and lots of it, and was hoping to get that funding from your dad's company."

"With you so far."

"He's building a mech, and it's going to cost roughly half a million dollars."

For five seconds or so, Michael just stared at me, before taking the cigarette out from his mouth and letting out a puff of smoke. "Does being a loon run in the family?"

"Listen, I know it sounds fucking stupid- "

"It is."

"-but I've seen the software and I've seen his blueprints. He's serious about this. Just, look," I explained, pulling the stack of papers out from my backpack. I handed it over to Michael, who flipped through all of it, humming to himself as he did.

"Hm. I know your dad's crazy, but he's also crazy talented. I... actually don't doubt that he's somehow designed a mech. That much is entirely believable," he mused, "but what is less believable is that he wants to get funding from my dad, or that my dad would grant it. I still remember the letters your dad wrote."

"Yeah, I know. He still hates the shit out of the company. Most corporations, really. He suggested that you propose this to your dad without mentioning his name. Say it's from some unknown entrepreneur. It might work, it might not, but..."

"Sure, I'll give it a shot," Michael said, putting the papers in his own backpack.

I nodded. "Awesome, thanks. Hey, by the way, was my tattoo on my right shoulder like this yesterday?" I said, tugging down my collar just enough to point at where my tattoo of Gacko was.

Michael arched his brow. "No. It was on your left. Y'know, where it is now?"

I blinked my eyes a couple of times and looked at my other shoulder. True enough, my tattoo of Gacko was there, where it was yesterday. "Oh, uh. It... It was on my right this morning..."

"Hank, did you forget how mirrors work again?"

"Fuck off, no! Or, at least, I don't think I did." I actually had to think for a second. I was pretty sure that my tattoo had somehow moved, but the idea was pretty ridiculous. I was probably just tired, I thought, and had gotten mixed up somewhere along the way.

"I was right. Being a loon does run in the family for the Lijons." Michael laughed, tossing down his cigarette and stomping it out. "Come on, let's go grab somethin' to eat. We probably still got time."

I nodded, though I still kept staring at the tattoo on my shoulder, almost expecting it to move. Alas, it did not, leaving me puzzled for the rest of the day.

But I'd get my answers soon enough.

 

 

 


	7. Revival

The rest of my school day had been rather uneventful, lunch having been followed by two English classes and a physics lesson. I met up with Wayne, Michael and Dick and agreed to hang out with them this evening, then headed back home.

"I'm home!" I called out as I stepped through the front door. I stopped in the foyer, and waited, counting down from 3. 2. 1.

My dad peered out from the living room, smiling hopefully. "So, son, how'd it go?"

I gave him a thumbs up. "Michael agreed to hand the proposal over to his dad. He didn't promise anything, but he will pass it on."

"Fantastic! Thank you, son. Whether or not the funding comes through, I think we'll be able to begin work on the chassis next week." He said, smiling even wider, a happy glow in his eyes.

I nodded and started heading up the stairs. As I took the first couple of steps, though, I heard a voice from somewhere.

"You seem to have gotten closer. That's nice."

I stopped, blinking and looking over my shoulder, my dad already gone. I paused, then scratched my head. Odd.

Slowly, I climbed up to the second floor and dragged myself over to my room. I tossed my bag on my bed, then sat down by my desk with a sigh, looking down at the tattoo on my wrist. I squinted at it. I had forgotten to ask Michael how his tattoo was doing. Mine was... fine. The artist had said it would bleed and ooze for several days, then scab and flake, but it looked just fine to me.

At that point, however, my thoughts were disturbed as the head of a lizard peeked out from my shirt sleeve, next to my wrist tattoo, flicking its tongue. 

"Sup?" the lizard asked.

I let out a surprised yelp, falling from my chair and scuttling away along the floor, shaking my arm around in front of me, only to realize moments later that I couldn't shake the lizard off. That lizard was my tattoo.

"Hank, did you just try to run away from your own arm?" the lizard asked, mockingly.

"What the fuck are you?" I questioned, staring directly at it as it crawled out from sleeve, wrapping itself around my arm, looking up at me from where the white circle was on my tattoo.

"Hell if I know, but you should keep it down. I don't feel like being seen will do me any good, and if your dad comes up here, you can bet that I'll pretend to be an inanimate tattoo and he'll just think you're an idiot," the tattoo said, paused for a moment, then added, "so, I guess not much would change."

I swallowed, staring at the tattoo for a moment, wide-eyed. "Are you... Gacko?"

At that, the lizard lowered its head, something that a two-dimensional work of art should not be able to do in the slightest. "Hm. I guess I am. At least, _I_ think I am. It makes no sense, though. It's as if I'm that lizard you had, but also really not. Hard to explain, Hank, and not just because you're thick."

I frowned, and flicked the lizard on the forehead. It hopped back, startled. "Whoa, that actually hurt a bit! I guess that even the smallest amount of damage or pain inflicted upon you affects me greatly if it happens to be where I'm at. Interesting..."

I flicked it again.

"Fucking stop that! I know this is weird, but this is what I've gathered so far: something bizarre happened after I died as that lizard, and my 'spirit', so to say, seems to have been tied to this tattoo. Not only that, but it seems like you've gotten some odd powers out of this. Look at this tattoo, or, hell, look at me," Gacko explained, pointing one of its claws at the four circles on my wrist.

"They're healed up. Tattoos usually don't do that this quickly, do they?" I asked.

"Fuck if I know, Hank, I was a lizard. I guess they don't, because I could sense them healing rapidly last night. I still don't know how that works, but the point is, you're not just a regular human anymore. And, there's one more thing," the lizard said, seeming almost unwilling to continue.

"That one more thing being?" I questioned it, finally standing up on my two feet, still staring down at my talking wrist. Now that I thought about it, I wasn't sure where I was hearing it from - it almost seemed like I just heard it all in my head, but at the same time, I could sense the direction which the voice was coming from.

"You should leave Jonestown as soon as you can. If you don't, you'll probably die."

The suddenness of the statement took me by surprise, making me sit right back down on my bed. "What?"

"You're no longer a normal person, and I'm obviously no longer a normal tattoo - and I can sense things. Things that should not be. Something is very wrong in this town, and I'm afraid that something bad is going to happen soon."

I frowned. "Y'know, that's pretty fucking vague, Gacko. If you're going to make me fear for my life, could you at least be a little less cryptic?"

"You're currently talking to a tattoo of your dead lizard and you've just found out you have magical healing powers. I hope you're not doubting that there might be some supernatural force involved."

"I can't just leave Jonestown on a whim, I have school, friends and family here. Besides, I'll have you know that I'm part of the masked mob - if something comes after us, we'll be able to handle it," I said with confidence.

"Yeah, I can access your memories, Hank, and I've gotten the general gist of how you guys operate. You're going to die."

There went my confidence. "Fuck, and about what you said earlier - why the hell do you not want to be seen? At least by my dad or my friends? Wouldn't it be for the better if they knew? If that were the case, we could probably at least leave Jonestown together."

"Because I don't know what's actually happening, but you can't rule out that somebody in this town _does_. You might become a target for someone - or something. But you may have _some_ point. Leaving your friends behind would be a dick move. You're meeting them tonight, right?"

I nodded. "I am."

"Good. Ask them how their tattoos are healing. If they seem to be experiencing similar effects to yours, you're probably in the clear to speak with them... Except Stender."

I blinked. "What? Why?"

"Remember how your father accused Stender & Jones of 'performing inhumane experiments on man and beast alike', and basically presented them as an evil comic book corporation?"

"Mhm. I think he's changed his mind a bit, though."

"He may have, but that doesn't mean he was innately wrong. What do you know about that company, Hank? It's a bit redundant for me to ask this, since I can _see_ your memories, but, humor me. I wonder how much you can bring up on your own," the lizard responded, coiling itself around my wrist.

I thought for a moment, rubbing the back of my neck. "Well, uh, Michael's dad founded it along with his college friend. Started out as one of those internet start-ups and it was one of the few really successful ones from back in the day. Ended up making millions from later selling their site and patents to Google, and they used the money to build a new IT company from the ground-up. They make all kinds of shit now, like computers, medicine..."

"And weapons. Weapons which regularly wind up in the hands of criminals, and weapons with oddly specific uses," Gacko added.

"Right. I mean, the really weird stuff would be their hunting equipment, wouldn't it? Like, their octopus' harpoons or wolf nets. Stender's a big hunting enthusiast, as far as I've heard from Michael."

"Weapons, hunting equipment - I'm a lizard, so it's pretty much all the same to me."

"You lived your entire life in a cage, Gacko."

"Shush, now. My turn. S&J are also known for numerous scandals involving various terrorist organizations and violent fringe groups abroad potentially being funded by them. Of course, they've always been proven innocent, and none of these groups have ever been against the US - so, it's not like the government would care that much."

I shrugged. "I just felt like that was a bunch of crazy nonsense. Hell, Snopes said it's bullshit."

"But your father's accusations stuck more with certain groups. Remember that 'fan mail' he got?"

I nodded. "Yeah, nutjobs and conspiracy theorists all over the country were happy to know there was someone as crazy as they are, but with actual, useful skills. I still don't really understand what you're getting at here."

"You read some of those letters, though you probably can't recall them. Some of them, all from the same guy, mentioned that S&J were involved with some shady government stuff involving 'entities'. At the time, you and even your dad dismissed it as nonsense, since he was talking about 'anomalies' and 'magic'."

"...Right."

"And what would you call what's happening now?"

"Voodoo bullshit."

"Close enough. Point is, Stender & Jones are way too shady to be trusted. It's ultimately up to you, I guess, but just promise me that if they don't have the same healing powers, you'll keep quiet."

I had to stop and think for a moment, rubbing my face with my non-tattooed arm. None of this made sense, and if something would really go wrong in Jonestown, I wanted to let my friends know. But, at the same time, I figured Gacko wouldn't reveal himself to them, and I'd likely just look like a crazy person. So, I sighed and nodded. "I won't."

I stood up once again, and, after a moment of silence, asked: "Do you think those two girls at school have something to do with what's going to happen in Jonestown? They were acting weird."

"They just might. You should try to keep an eye on them. But try to be less creepy about it, Hank." 

"Oh, shut it."

 

I left my house two hours later. By Gacko's request, I had wrapped up my wrist tattoo again to make it less obvious that it's already healed up, just in case, and headed to Wayne's place. When I arrived, the other three were already there, drinking beers.

"Yo, Hank. Stalk anyone on the way here?" Dick asked, grinning.

I flipped him off, then glared at Michael. "Seriously?"

"Sorry. Was a bit too funny to keep to myself," he answered with a smirk.

I shook my head, heading over to the bar and getting myself a beer as well. "So, uh, how are all your tattoos doing?"

"Fuckin' terrible," responded Dick, raising his wrist to show that it was leaking ink and blood alike. It was pretty gross, actually. Michael and Wayne both showed their arms as well, both having similar problems. 

"Hank," I heard a somewhat familiar voice in my head, "keep quiet about it. Be nonchalant, don't make 'em suspicious."

"Haha, yeah, same. Fucking gross, still have it wrapped up," I blurted out, and took a swig from the bottle in my hand, choking slightly and coughing. I could almost sense Gacko's disappointment resonate in my mind. Dick didn't look like he had noticed anything, but I spotted Wayne and Michael glance at each other. Damn it.

"So, uh, what're you guys up to tonight?" I asked, trying to change the subject. 

"Discussin' how we're gonna spend the money. Wayne here wants to _invest_ , if you can believe it," Michael answered.

"Hey, can't be a thug with a part-time job forever. If I can get some easy cash, I'm fine with retirin' early," explained Wayne.

I nodded. "Guess that makes sense. Wouldn't have expected you to go wild with the cash, anyway. What are you gonna spend it on, Dick?"

"Your mom."

"Yeah, that's great. Michael?" I asked, taking a sip from my beer and purposefully ignoring Dick.

"I'm not really sure. Not like I-"

"-really needed the money," all three of us finished for him in unison.

"You've said that after every operation, Michael, but always end up spending that money on stupid shit. What did you buy with the money we got last time?" asked Wayne.

"...A hand glider." Michael answered reluctantly.

"Have you used that hand glider since?" queried our boss.

"I may have," said Michael, taking a swig from his beer.

"Have you?"

"No, no I have not," he finally admitted, shrugging. "Alright, so, I may have spent money on stupid shit in the past. And I might do it again. Matter of fact, I don't know what I'll use that money on, but I'm pretty sure it'll be stupid. And what about you, Hank?"

I stopped with my bottle halfway up to my lips. What _was_ I going to spend my money on?

"Guess that depends. Did you talk to your old man about my dad's proposal?" I asked Michael in return.

He nodded. "I did. He said he'll read over it tonight and let me know what he thinks in the morning. But just so you know, your cut isn't half a million dollars, Hank."

"Whoa, half a million? The fuck is your dad building, a space ship?" Dick asked, taken aback.

"Close. A mech." Michael responded before I did.

"Fuck, man. We could use one of those. Red Crows wouldn't have jack shit against a mech." Wayne said, smirking.

I laughed, giving him a thumbs up as I finished my beer. At the very least, I had taken the attention away from my tattoo situation, and it seemed like Wayne and Michael had forgotten about it already. Whether or not I would really lend my own money for my dad's crazy project, I really couldn't tell at the time. Having a mech would have been cool as hell. But I didn't know just how little time I had left to think about that.

 


	8. Practice

We had a couple of beers and played some pool that night, and split up a couple of hours later. Wayne had approached me, handed me a set of keys and patted me on the back, saying that 'she's waiting for me in the warehouse'. My face had lit up - this meant that I would finally be able to bring my GSX-R750 home with me. I was definitely excited - granted, I wasn't going to be riding it tonight, since I was, in fact, a bit tipsy, but I did want to see it.

And so, I headed towards the industrial district as soon as I left Wayne's place. Gacko wasn't happy with me because of it, but I just couldn't not see my baby right away. Ignoring the lizard's scorn, I made it to the warehouse. The night was a bit chilly, and the streets were quiet tonight. It was a Monday - I guess even the criminals in this town weren't big fans of Mondays.

I made my way to the back entrance and stepped in, humming happily to myself. What I was expecting to see was my new motorcycle. What I wasn't expecting was the barrel of a gun right in my face. I yelped, freezing up momentarily before a familiar face peeked around the weapon.

"You didn't knock this time, Hank," said Robin, lowering her gun.

I sighed, loosening up. "Jesus Christ, you almost gave me a heart attack there. What are you doing here?"

"Wayne told me to stop by. He said you'd probably come. Actually, he bet me fifty bucks that you would," she explained, taking a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket and tapping it, "so, I just lost a bet. Thanks."

"Uh. You're welcome. That didn't really answer my question, though," I responded, scratching my head.

"Hank, think about it," she said, placing a cigarette between her teeth and lighting it with a zippo she produced from her other pocket. "It's late in the evening. A girl's been waiting for you, alone..."

"With a gun," Gacko commented to me, "don't forget the gun part."

Gacko's words, however, slipped my ears - even though I didn't actually listen to him with my ears - as Robin's insinuation had taken me by surprise.

"Uh, well, I mean, I-I wasn't expecting-" I was unable to get a coherent thought out before I was snapped back into reality by Gakco suddenly yelling at me to watch out, and Robin's knee smashing into my stomach, making me hunch over. I fell to my knees, coughing.

"Well, you should've been expectin' it, Hank!" she said, placing her fists on her hips and bending over slightly to be a bit closer to my face. "Wayne told me you ain't much a marksman, but he told me you're quick. I'm here to see how quick you are."

I groaned as I stood back up on my two feet, though I noticed the pain go away rather quickly. Robin was still a hard hitter, though. "The fuck do you mean?"

"I mean that I'm going to be training you, kid," she responded, cracking her knuckles. "Since you're still standing, I'm guessing you can at least take a hit. Good start. But not gonna cut it, I'm afraid."

As the woman in front of me grinned and raised her fists. I tried to take a step back, but she lunged forward, jabbing me once in the chest.

"Shit! Hank, she's going for a right hook!" Gacko tried to warn me, but I still took her attack right to my face, stumbling and nearly falling.

"Alright, guess that didn't-" another punch, this one an uppercut to my abdomen, "- help. Duck, now!"

That was an order I could follow. I bent my knees and lowered my head, Robin's next punch just barely missing the top of my head.

"Good! Now, to your right!" Gacko called out. I tried to jump aside, but still took a kick to my shoulder as I did. I quickly got back up on my feet, now slightly more prepared. Or, so I hoped.

Robin was still grinning - matter of fact, she still had her cigarette between her teeth. And it didn't seem like she had any intention of stopping her assault, as she lunged at me once again.

"Left!" Gacko warned. I bent my upper body to the left, Robin's fist whiffing.

"Right!" I did the same to my right side, her fist still coming a bit too close for comfort. With each one of her attacks, I had to take a step back. I was nearly backed up against the wall at this point.

"Alright, she'll go for a right again!" Gacko called out, giving me time to duck under the blow. "Now jump to her left and hit the bitch!"

I smirked and did just so. Or, tried to. Her next punch brushed against my shoulder as I hopped to the side, going for a right jab up at her face. Her head darted back, however, my reckless attack had left me open. Robin shifted herself to her left, locking my arm in her elbow. She took a swift step forward with her left leg, slamming her right leg into the back of my knee.

I grunted and collapses, robin's arm lock bringing me down on the ground, hard. I felt the air get knocked out of my lungs as I was slammed into the ground - it hurt, but I could tell Robin wasn't doing it with all her strength. If she were, I would probably have wound up with a broken rib or two.

"You are quick. I'll give you that." She commented, her elbow pinning my chest. "A little bit of training, and you might make a half-decent fighter."

I coughed and slowly sat myself up as she moved her arm away and stood up herself. "Man, this chick's nuts!" Gacko said. I subconsciously glanced at my shoulder to make sure the lizard was still there. I also noticed that, while my body was aching just a moment ago, I seemed to be fine now.

"Jesus, Robin, could you... give me some breathing room next time?" I asked.

The girl shrugged, taking her cigarette out from her mouth and dropping it on the ground. "You're the distraction in all of your gang's plans, right? If you end up in a fight or somethin', ain't like whoever you're fighting is gonna go easy on you. Gotta be prepared," she said, stepping on her cigarette and putting it out.

I pushed myself off the ground and got up on my feet. While I was thinking of a snarky response, Gacko spoke into my mind once more: "She may be nuts, but she does have a point. If something's about to go down in Jonestown, being ready to fight might be useful."

I shut my mouth, and raised my hands in defeat. "Fine. Could you actually... try and teach me next time, at least?"

"Sure. Just wanted to see what you were capable of, first."

"I mean, you could've asked, or something."

"Yeah, but I didn't feel like askin'. Anyway, I'll be in town for a week or so. Think you can stop by around this time each day, do some practice?" As Robin spoke, a large grin crept up on her face. I was starting to wonder if I would survive this training if I were still a normal bloke.

"Yeah, should be. Wait, except Saturday. I got some, uh, plans for Saturday."

Robin gave a thumbs up as she turned to head for her car. "Cool. I actually got a date planned with that Michael kid."

I blinked, almost surprised. "Really? Uh. Cool."

She unlocked her car and got in. She rolled down her window and pointed her thumb towards a tarp nearby. "She's under there, Hank. See ya tomorrow, kid."

Saying that, she took off, the door raising in front of her with a screech and lowering back down once she was out. I stood there for a moment, then ran full speed to the tarp, thossing it aside. I couldn't help but smile like an idiot. My bike was there, repainted, with a new set of tires, and most importantly, a re-done chassis. The entire thing had been reinforced, its engine protected by steel plates. The windshield had been replaced by a longer one, one made of bulletproof glass. It didn't look much like a GSX-R750, and seemed more like a barded horse of some kind. A part of me worried about what jobs Wayne had planned for me, but, for the most part, I was just exstatic about the idea of getting to ride this baby again.

I glided my hand over the chassis, resisting the urge to get on it right away. I wasn't going to take it back home just yet. I picked up the tarp and covered the bike once more, putting my hands in my pockets. I started heading back towards the back door.

"You know, Hank, we didn't make too bad of a team back there," said Gacko.

"No, I guess we didn't. We should probably practice those callouts a bit, though."

"Indeed we should. Oh, and it looks like I have some control over that healing ability you have. I can sort of direct it at your injuries. Did you feel pain during the fight?"

"A little, right as I got hit. It passed quickly each time, though. Were you doing that?"

"Mhm. You're welcome, buddy."

I laughed a bit as I opened the door. "Thanks. It's a bit surreal, but I guess you're pretty alright to have around, Gacko."

"Gee, what a compliment."

"Hey, no need to be sassy!"

"It's how you raised me to be, Hank. It's how you raised me."


	9. Paranoia

It was Friday afternoon. I had run back from school with a big grin plastered on my face. For once, things seemed to be working out for me. Not only was I going on a date with Mahon tomorrow, but I had also gotten word from Michael - he agreed to sponsor the mech project.

I made it to my front door and rushed through, nearly tripping on the doorstep. I could hear Gacko cackling in my head, but ignored it.

"I'm home!" I called out.

A few moments later, my dad peeked in from the living room. "Hey, son! Any word on our little business venture?"

"Mhm."

"And?" He asked, leaning forward slightly.

"We're getting the money." I said, giving him a thumbs up.

My old man's face lit up. He clasped his hands together, laughing. "Fantastic, son! That bastard may be a stingy, inhumane son of a bitch, but I guess even he knows good work when he sees it!"

My mom peeked out from the kitchen, at this point, her palm covering her cellphone. "Could you two _please_ keep it down? Go talk about your toys elsewhere!" she ordered, then pulled back into the kitchen to continue blabbering on about mundane shit with her friends.

I smirked and gave a shrug at her as she turned around, then faced my dad again. "We'll start work Monday, right?"

He nodded. "We will. And thank you, son. You're a good man."

"Thanks. Oh, and, uh, I'll be going out again tonight. That alright?" I asked. Now that I thought about it, this was the first time in years I had actually _asked_ for permission.

"Sure, sure! Have fun!" He said, and with that, he retreated back into his office. 

I headed upstairs, whistling to myself. I set all my things aside and stood up straight in the middle of the room, cracking my knuckles. 

"Alright, Gacko. One last practice round?" I asked out loud as I rolled my shoulders.

"One last practice round," the lizard said as he crawled down to my arm.

I took a deep breath, and took a few jabs at the air in front of me. I frowned, however. They seemed sloppy. "Something wrong, Gacko?"

"Oh, just wanted to check if you could do them on your own. Guess you're still garbage."

"Oh, fuck off, I've only been practicing a week!" I protested, giving another swing at the air, this one much more threatening. 

Throughout the week, I had been practicing hand-to-hand combat with Robin, and it had been going pretty well, but I couldn't take all the credit for it. Somehow, Gacko was able to 'tap into my memories', so to speak; not only could he see my past experiences, Gacko could also pull those memories up for me and let me remember shit on the spot. We had discovered this just yesterday, during a surprise final test in my maths class - I didn't remember jack shit for half the test, but then this little lizard fella started helping me out. Aced it.

I made a few more clenched fist punches at the air, ending in an uppercut to the gut of my invisible opponent, same as the one Robin had used on me during out first training session. I smiled. I - no, _we_ were ready.

 

I tossed my jacket aside as I made my way to the middle of the warehouse, Robin awaiting me by her car, leaning against the hood with a cigarette in her mouth.

"This is our last session, kid," she said, pushing herself off the surface of her car and walking to meet me midway, "so it's your last shot at beatin' me, ain't it?"

Her tone sounded almost mocking to me. I figured she didn't expect me to win, not by a long shot - just last night she had thuroughly kicked my ass. But tonight was going to be different. I was sure of it.

"It is. I don't plan to squander the opportunity," I proclaimed. I felt my fists tighten as Gacko readied my mind. I took a somewhat loose stance, expecting Robin to attack first like she had done every other session.

Instead, however, she just stood there, her legs shoulder-width apart and her arms at her sides dismissively. "I'll let you take first shot today, Hank. I'm feeling generous."

While I wasn't expecting her to be on the defensive, it wasn't like I wasn't prepared. As such, I positioned myself in a more offensive stance, my left food forward and my right arm behind me, and took in a deep breath. I then charged at her head-on. 

"Left hook high!" Gacko warned me. My dodges up until today had been sloppy, each one just pushing me back and putting me more on the defensive while Robin had the chance to push her advantage. This time, however, I was able to tell exactly what Robin was going to do - I had seen her do it so many times, after all. 

I ducked my head, sidestepping slightly to the right, her attack brushing past me head. Her arm blocked mine mid-swing, Gacko warning me that she's prparing to kick me. I pushed my arm off of hers, hopping back, her foot narrowly missing my stomach.

She then decided to go on an attack herself. This was exactly what I was hoping for. 

"Right!" exclaimed Gacko. I bent my body right,  but I didn't step back like I normally would. I ducked under the next punch coming from her left, springing back up with an uppercut aimed at her jaw. She pulled her head back, my attack missing her, but striking her cigarette. Her smoke flew out of her mouth and landed on the ground after doing several spins in the air.

"Not bad," she commented, "time to kick it up a notch, then!"

"Kick it up a notch" I heard Gacko ask in my head. "Shit, Hank, knee, lower left!" 

I sidestepped to my right, but her other knee quickly met my side. It seemed like Robin had gotten faster all of a sudden. Had she really been holding back this entire time?

I took several more kicks to my sides before I was able to jump back, taking a defensive stance. The woman in front of me now wore a massive grin on her face. "Come on, kid, you were putting up a good fight just a minute ago! Keep it up!" 

Robin had clearly changed her stance at this point. Before she seemed loose, her attacks seeming as natural as walking for her, but now she stood like a boxer, both of her arms raised in front of her and her body light on her feet. She closed the gap between is by hopping from side to side, another set of punches coming my way. Even with Gacko's callouts, I barely managed to block three of them, the fourth one, a straight right jab, striking me in the middle of the face.

I stumbled back, clutching my nose with my hand, but her assault was relentless. Just like that first night, I was being forced back with each attack, constantly taking hit after hit. The pain was swiftly dulled down, but not the humiliation. I had to act.

I jumped back several more times, now almost at the door. Every attack Robin made seemed different, Gacko unable to assist me fast enough for me to avoid them effectively. But I needed him to pull me through this mess just this once. This was seriously going to test the limits of how far this new memory ability went.

"Hank, I can read your thoughts. Are you actually mental?" Gacko asked. 

_"Hey, I'm losing either way, aren't I? Might as well give it a shot. Hell, I don't think she'd be expecting something that dumb, either."_

"You're a massive fucking dork, Hank. I hope you know that."

I smirked. As Robin stepped forward once again for another set of punches, I crouched down and hopped forward under her attacks. Rather than just getting back up with another uppercut, however, I spun myself around, essentially on all fours now. Seeing me turn my back towards her, Robin snickered, preparing to kick me, but as she raised her foot, I swung my leg around, knocking the woman off balance. 

As she fell, I scurried up on my feet and took my stance again, a smile on my face. "Get snake-edged, fucker!"

Robin laid on the floor for a moment, before raising her head slightly. "Whatever the hell you just did was retarded and should not have worked. I take solace in the fact that you looked like an idiot, kid," she said jokingly and got back up on her feet. 

"You did good, though. Proud of ya, Hank," she said.

"Well, I had a damn good teacher," I responded.

"Thanks," said Robin.

"Thanks," said Gacko in my head.

I had to hold in some laughter at that, which Robin seemed to notice but didn't question me on. We split ways that night as we normally would, both of us wishing each other good luck on our dates tomorrow. And this time around, I took my bike home. Today had been awesome, and I was expecting tomorrow to be even better.

That was, of course, until I made it home and Gacko spoke up. "You shouldn't go to meet Mahon tomorrow."

I froze up, then stared down at my arm. "Uh, what?"

"I'm sensing something... off. Tomorrow is going to be a bad day. You should stay home and be ready to leave town."

"Again with this shit? Gacko, seriously, tomorrow of all days?"

"Hank, don't you think her offering this meeting in the first place is odd? Why the hell would she hook up with _you_?"

"Alright, now, no need to be a dick," I muttered. "Okay, how about this - if nothing weird happens tomorrow throughout the day, I'm going. Sound reasonable?"

Gacko paused. "Fine. But if anything happens, don't say I didn't warn you."

 

On the evening of the next day, I stopped my bike in front of the schoolhouse. I checked the time on my phone - 8:50. Just in time. I had been acting pretty smug all day towards Gacko, pretending my toast is haunted, wiggling my hands around and making ghost sounds every time the little guy spoke. In retrospect, I was a bit of a tool.

"This is still a terrible idea, Hank," Gacko said as I turned off my bike's engine and got off, a skip in my step.

"It'll be fine, Gacko! I mean, shit, what's the worst case scenario, really? She doesn't show up?"

"Well, no. The worst case scenario in any situation is probably you dying. And everyone else dying. Death all around, for good measure."

"Optimistic as always, Gacko," I commented, glancing from side to side as I moved towards the main entrance. "I wonder where Mahon is?"

Before Gacko could come up with a witty response, both of us were startled as I was suddenly grabbed from behind by two pairs of hands, a foul-smelling rag pressed against my face. I struggled to break free from their grasp, but while one of the pairs barely held me down at all, whoever else was holding me was much stronger. I could feel my consciousness slipping away.

The last thing I heard was Gacko calling me a fucking idiot.

 

 

 


	10. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Dick's day off while Wayne deals with his usual clients at "Wildman's Gunsmith". Said usual clients give him some rather rather unusual advice. Meanwhile Robin and Michael head off for their date, since it's the last night Robin will be spending in Jonestown. All of their plans are ruined however by an unexpected power outage.

Michael stood in front of his mirror, a suit in each hand. In his right was a dark blue, Italian three-button suit, and in his left - a gray British-made single-button jacket. Michael didn't know how long he had been standing there with just his shirt on, but it was longer than he would be proud admit. 

After lifting one jacket in front of his chest, then the other, then repeating this motion six or seven times, he finally settled on the gray one. It was a bit more casual, and only half-lined, so he wouldn't end up sweating up a storm. He put on his jacket and accompanying suit pants, as well as a classy red tie, then combed his hair and started heading downstairs. 

As he was about to head, however, he heard his father call out: "Michael, could you come in here for a minute?"

Michael paused and checked his watch. It wasn't even eight o' clock yet, so he had plenty of time. As such, he had no problem chatting with has dad for a little while.

He stepped into the reading room, where he found his father sitting in his usual reading chair by the fireplace. The man, sitting there in a red bathrobe and smoking a pipe, seemed like a caricature of those posh rich folk - the greyed hair and book of classical literature in his hands didn't help that. Michael was used to it, though sometimes the contrast between his own nightly actions and his father's apparent class even caught him off guard.

"Hey, dad. What're you reading there?" Michael asked as he stepped inside and went to take a seat in a chair opposite of the old man.

"Mary Shelley's 'Frankenstein'. A classic of horror literature - might be a bit dated, but an old man like me can still find some appreciation for it," he said, chuckling. "And it is still a fascinating concept, isn't it? Creating life where there is none?"

Michael shrugged. "I guess. I'm sure there are tons of scientists out there working on exactly that."

"Yes, yes, of course. But that's not what I wanted to talk about - as senile as I may be getting, I don't want to waste your time with philosophical babbling. Now, do you remember the name William Lijon?" Stender asked, turning his gaze back down towards his book.

"Well, yeah. He's my best friend's father, so it's not easy to forget," Michael answered nonchalantly. 

"Yes, and I'm sure you also remember the letters we received from him - or, rather, the anonymous letters which were quite obviously from him?"

Michael nodded. "Yup. Remember those quite vividly, actually. They got... graphic."

"That they did. That man hates me and my company with a passion," Stender said and set his book aside, "which makes it all the more bizarre that he would seek my funding now."

Michael arched a brow, feigning surprise. "Wait, what? What's he need funding for?"

Stender smiled at his son, leaning forward and patting him on the shoulder before standing up. "You're a good liar, Michael. I'm proud of that, but there is only one man in this town who is equally insane and brilliant enough to come up with a working design for a walking, fighting robot." 

Michael paused, then shrugged. "Fair enough. But if you knew it was him, how come you agreed to sponsor him?"

Stender had walked over to a nearby cabinet and produced a bottle of whiskey and a glass. "Oh, that should be obvious," he said as he poured himself a glass and turned around to face his son. "It interested me."

Michael watched his father as he returned to his seat, sipping from his glass. "But even so, I could trust the man as far as I can throw him - and you've seen the man," he chuckled once more. "Which is why I want you to keep an eye on that friend of yours. No doubt he'll know something, and will be in the know on how that mech project is going."

Michael nodded, slowly. "I see. I'll try, father," he said then checked his watch again, "I gotta go now, though. Don't know when I'll be back, but I'll try to call you if it isn't too late."

Stender picked up his book as his son stood up, a glass of whiskey in his other hand and his pipe in his mouth. "Ah, very well. You enjoy your youth while you still have it. Trust an old man like me - you won't have it long."

 

Wayne set down a large box full of .45 ACP magazines on the counter, peeking around said box to look at the three men standing opposite of him. Two of them were dressed in dark, obscuring suits, sunglasses over their eyes, both of them having earpieces in their ears. Wayne could tell from their bulky frames that these two were wearing body armor under their shirts, and likely carrying concealed weapons.

The third man, however, seemed scrawny in comparison. He wore a plain, white button-up shirt and a pair of khaki-colored slacks. The man's face was cleanly shaved and his dark brown hair slicked back, a pair of square-framed spectacles over his eyes. He was smiling, and looked overall pleasant - as was expected of the mayor, of course.

"Arming up, Mr. Backston?" Wayne asked, the mayor being a regular customer in "Wildman's Gunsmith", the gun store where he worked part-time to cover living fees.

"Yes, yes, you know how it is around here. Despite my best efforts, Jonestown can get a bit dangerous from time to time," the man said. Wayne didn't even try hiding his smirk at the mayor's words. He was the last person to buy Backston's 'best efforts' bullshit.

"Right, of course. You usually buy hollowpoints, sir, need any more of them?" Wayne asked as he punched in the numbers in the register.

"No, we're good on those. Body armor has been becoming a real issue lately, after all."

Wayne glanced between the two guards standing beside Backston, then back at the Mayor. "I see. So, this'll be all, then?"

The mayor nodded and paid in cash, letting Wayne keep the change - that change being around a hundred bucks. 

"Oh, and Bolmey," the mayor said as he was heading out the door, "I suggest you stay home tonight. I have word that things might go badly in town."

Wayne shook his head to himself after the man had left. Only a man as fucked in the head as Backston could talk about his own town going to shit so nonchalantly, he thought as he went back to organizing the shelves. Wildman's had the best stock in town, and was a favorite among many of the gangs in town - except for the Red Crows. The Red Crows likely imported their weapons from more direct sources, and were actually the suppliers _for_ Wildman's. It was a thought that occasionally made Wayne laugh to himself. The Red Crows were supplying him in more ways than one.

A short while later, the shopkeeper himself hurried into the shop from his lunch break - a lunch break which had lasted until 8:30 PM. Liam Boyle, better known as 'The Wildman' was a scruffy middle-aged man with a scraggly beard and a large scar over his left eye. While there were plenty of rumors around town as to how he got the scar, Wayne was one of the few folk to know the real story behind it - once while drunk, Liam tried opening a beer bottle with his face. This was the result.

"Alright, Wayne, let's get our shit packed, we're closin' down!" exclaimed The Wildman.

Wayne did a double take at that. "The fuck are you talking about?"

"You'll get your month's pay early in the mail tomorrow, but I'm closing down shop for good. Red Crows warned me that shit's going South real soon, and I'm better off getting the hell out of dodge. And, by extension, so are you," he hurriedly explained as he rushed into the back room and started throwing empty boxes out towards Wayne. 

"The mayor said something similar, actually. Any idea exactly what's happening?" Wayne asked, deciding not to question The Wildman's decisions too much, instead just starting to put away all the guns.

"Not a fucking clue, but I'd guess the Crows know their shit. They haven't failed me yet, so I'll listen to 'em. Once you got those boxes filled up, start carryin' 'em out to the car. Oh, and Wayne?" Liam said, stopping next to the dark-skinned man and putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Uh, yeah?"

"That girl right there is all yours," he said, pointing to a Winchester 20 gauge sitting in the back room, "because I know you're too dumb to leave your friends behind."'

 

Robin stopped her car in front of the address she had been given by Michael. She let out a whistle at the sight of the building. Only now did she realize just how loaded Stender was. This place was a mansion and a half. 

Granted, she didn't really care about that. She was never into rich folk, but this Michael kid seemed nice. And he was hot - a big plus in her books.

She lit up a cigarette and rested her arm outside of the car as she waited. The night was a bit chilly, but that's how she liked it - she had spent a large portion of her life in Texas, but she still preferred the more moderate climate up North. 

Just a couple of minutes later, Michael stepped out the front door, dressed in a proper suit. Robin couldn't help but start laughing at that - she herself hadn't dressed up at all, still in her usual leather jacket and all. This was going to be a fun night for her.

"Sorry for making you wait," Michael said as he got in the car.

"Oh, it's fine, Mikey. It's common for the chick to be fashionably late," Robin said, and revved up the engine, driving off for the commercial district before Michael could even process the burn he had just received.

 

Dick finished a can of beer, crushed it against his forehead and burped, reclining further on his couch. His one-room apartment was dark, the only source of light in the room being the TV sitting in front of him, currently showing the news. Another report on missing kids in Jonestown. Disappearances were common enough, but even Dick found it fucked up when it was kids. And, hell, even most gangs in Jonestown had an unspoken rule against messing with children.

But, it wasn't like Dick was in any position to do anything. He was a low-life, born and raised in a gutter. Having this apartment was the most he had ever owned, and now he had all this cash to spend, sitting beside him in a big duffel bag. He occasionally glances at it, trying to think of more and more ridiculous ways to spend it. 

A pool party where the pool is filled with Guinness. Hiring Nicolas Cage to star in a home movie. Buying bitcoins. Getting a pet tiger. His thoughts were disturbed, however, as his entire room went dark, the TV having suddenly shut off.

Grumbling, Dick dug through his pockets to produce his phone and turned on its flashlight. He walked over to the TV, stubbing his toe on the coffee table along the way and cursing every god there ever was, and tried turning it back on. Nothing. He tried messing with the wires. Nothing.

Muttering swear words in both English and Spanish, the man made his way to the fuse box, trying to see if that's where the problem was. As he opened it, however, he received a call. Putting the caller on speaker phone, he continued his attempts. "Yo, this is Dick?"

"Dick, it's Wayne. Where are you?"

"In my apartment, dog. What's up?" He asked, fiddling with the wires. 

"Something is going to go down, apparently. I don't know what, but it'll be big. I need you to come to my place. Bring your gun."

"Shit, gimme a minute, my power's out," Dick said to his boss.

"Dick, look out the window, buddy."

The man furrowed his brow in the direction of his phone and slowly stumbled his way to the window. After a few moments of staring, he spoke up: "Yo, ain't seein' shit, Wayne."

"Exactly."

"Oh. Fuck," Dick slowly uttered, scratching his lower back, "I guess I ain't the only one in the dark, then?"

 

 

 

 


	11. Ritual

 

I hesitantly blinked my eyes open, my sight blurry and unfocused. The room I was now in was dimly lit, which didn't make the situation any better. As I slowly regained understanding of my surroundings, I heard two familiar voices.

"Wake up, sweet little Lijon," said a sultry voice.

"Fucking get up, shit-for-brains!" said another.

One of those voices belonged to Mahon, the other belonged to Gacko. I'll let you make an educated guess as to which was which.

I shook my head, and promptly realized the position I was in. My arms and legs were constricted by rope, tied to hard wooden table. My arms were spread to either side, my hands dangling over the edges of the table, while my legs were tied together. The table was ever so slightly slanted forwards. My jacket was missing, leaving me in just my undershirt, and I could feel that my pockets had been emptied.

Mahon was standing on the far end of the room, next to the door. I didn't recognize the room we were in, but I assumed it was somewhere in the school's basement. All the lights were off, instead the room was illuminated by several rows of candles lined up on shelves on all sides of the room. I could spot another table next to the one I was on, a black tarp covering whatever had been placed on it. Not really a good sign.

My homeroom teacher slowly approached me, her hips swinging in their usual exaggerated manner. What wasn't as usual, however, was her outfit. She was wearing a latex catsuit with an inappropriately deep decollete. While it seemed revealing at first, on second thought, she was showing less skin than she normally would. Either way, I commited the sight to my memory. I could sense Gacko's judgement, but I had my priorities.

She approached me and cupped my chin with her hand, leaning close to my face. She smelled like raspberries and cinnamon, and had the eyes of a psychotic snake.

"Oh, sweet Lijon, do you feel alright?" she asked.

"I, uh, yeah, I mean- wait, what the fuck is going on?" I sputtered out. "I'm... I'm not really into this sort of stuff, Miss Mahon."

The woman chuckled, removing her hand from my face. "You can come in, girls!" she called out towards the door.

But a few moments later, the door opened, and in stepped two young girls. Not just any girls, either - Mary and Sarah. Boy, what a coincidence that was.

The two of them froze up after stepping through the door, Sarah letting out a small gasp and placing her hands over her mouth, while I could spot Mary shaking a little. She stared at me for a good few moments, then turned her gaze to Mahon.

"What is going on, Mahon?" she asked, taking a step forward.

"Whatever do you mean, sweetheart?" the woman asked in response, tracing her own lips with a finger. "It's what we've been planning for an entire week now!"

"No, it's not! You just said we needed his blood, and that's it!" Mary shouted.

Mahon laughed at that. Her laugh had usually seemed flirtatious to me, but now it sounded ominous and straight-up evil in nature. "Oh, we do, but not so little of it that we could just let him walk away."

As she spoke, my homeroom teacher grinned and turned to face me once more. "Oh, I'm sorry, sweet Lijon. I'm afraid this will be goodbye."

Before I could let her words sink in, she produced a dagger from behind herself, jabbing it into my stomach, tearing through my flesh as easily as it cut through my shirt. I screamed in pain as she dragged the blade up, blood gushing from the wound. My vision got blurrier as my eyes began to water, I could faintly hear Sarah screaming in terror and Mary yelling something, but I couldn't make out what it was.

"Hank, do not close your eyes! It'll be better in a second, just stay conscious!" I heard Gacko order me in my head. At that point, the lizard's voice was the only thing that was clear to me, so I concentrated on it more than anything else. The pain was excrutiating, but I could sense it die down, albeit slowly.

The blood continued to trickle out from my wound, and as I turned my gaze down, I saw Mahon holding up a metal chalice. A fucking chalice. I mean, ritualistic dagger was one thing, but who the fuck uses chalices anymore?

My pain had been alleviated thanks to Gacko, but my whole body felt weak. The fact that I had been constrained was no help, and I slimpy slumped my head back, a quiet thud echoing throughout the now-quiet room as the back of my head hit the table. My breathing was uneven, I could sense sweat dripping down my body and clinging to my clothes, some of it getting in my still-open wound. I swallowed a glob of saliva that had collected in the back of my neck, my whole body trembling.

Hesitantly, I turned my head to watch what was happening in the room around me. Sarah was still standing there with her mouth covered. Her cheeks were glistening with tears. At least _someone_ here was worried about me. Mary, meanwhile, just seemed pissed at Mahon, who was now standing over the other table. There was one of those medical trolley things next to it, and on it stood the chalice along with a scalpel, a needle and some other instruments. Mahon had also placed the dagger on it, set in a plain leather sheath.

Mahon pulled the tarp off in a dramatic fashion, revealing the body underneath. While at this point it was little surprise to me that it was Jane, I recoiled at the sight never the less. Her expression was twisted and unnatural,  a trail of dried up blood leading from her mouth and down her chin. The skin around her neck was blackened, almost appearing to be burned and cracked, as if it would peel off if touched. Her left leg was clearly broken, bent backwards in a way which made me wince as I imagined the pain she must've gone through - likely even worse than what I had just experienced.

Sarah turned her gaze away, shivering and looking like she could throw up at any moment. I couldn't really blame her for that. I could feel my own dinner creeping up but forced it back down, leaving a bitter taste in my throat. This was actually the first dead body I had ever seen in my entire life. I was sure that the rest of the gang had experience with this stuff, but I didn't. I was always just the decoy. At times like these, I wondered if I really belonged in this fucked up world.

Mary, meanwhile, had stepped right up behind Mahon, her body shaking in anger. "This _will_ bring her back, right?" she forced out through clenched teeth.

"You need to be patient with me, dear," Mahon said as she picked up the scalpel with one hand, unbuttoning Jane's shirt with the other. The poor girl was dressed in a rather plain blouse and skirt. She was generally an unintimidating, sweet girl - one of the few people in class who didn't look at me like I was trash, even. She had joined our class little after Mary, and had been good friends with her, though I think she had gotten closer with Sarah over the course of the year. Her death must've seriously fucked with those two. I almost felt sorry for them, though I would probably have been more compassionate if there wasn't a massive hole in my gut.

Mahon slowly sliced open Mary's abdomen, her hands swiftly going from one tool to another. First she sliced it open with a scalpel, then retracted the skin, then widened the hole and picked up the chalice. She worked quickly, almost as if she were a proper surgeon - though, if this were a proper surgery, her not working with gloves would be a problem. My blood mixing with hers would probably be a bigger one.

"Oh, sweet Lijon, you're still awake? I'm impressed," the woman said, gliding a bloodied finger across my right arm and leaving a trail of the substance in its path. "I guess you're a bit curious as to what's going on? I suppose there's no reason not to explain it now, right, girls?"

Sarah had crouched down, hugging herself and crying into her own arms, Mary not finding time to console her in her anger. "Fuck you," she simply uttered.

"Ha! Maybe later, sweetheart," Mahon responded. I could feel Gacko's judgement double over the thoughts which made their way into my head at the insinuation.

"You see, sweet Lijon, little Jane here had an unfortunate run-in with something she shouldn't have. Jonestown is a much more dangerous place than you could ever have imagined," she continued. As she spoke, she began to slowly pour my blood from the chalice into the hole she had just cut in Jane's flesh.

"It's not just gangs, no, I'm sure you already knew about that. You'd have to be an absolute idiot to not- Hm. You _do_ know about the gangs, right?" she asked, stopping mid-pour to glance at me. As used as I was to her belittling me in class, I was quite done with her shit at this point.

"G-get bent, you crazy bitch," I stammered out. I guess my body hadn't yet fully recovered from getting stabbed like that.

"Tsk. I'll take that as a yes, though," she responded, finishing up with the chalice. She then picked up the needle, then set it back down, smiling. "Yes, the gang situation is nasty, but the real terror lurks even deeper in the shadows. I'm sure you've noticed the series of disappearances as of late?"

Now that I thought about it, I had and I hadn't. I chalked it up to folks like the Red Crows wiping out another gang or something, but it didn't quite make sense. The people that went missing wouldn't have _anything_ to do with these bastards. Even our class had gone half-empty for some reason. My eyes widened and I looked once more towards Jane's lifeless form. How many had suffered a fate like this...?

"Oh, yes, she wasn't the only one. She's one that these two girls were lucky... or, maybe unlucky enough to stumble across. Who knows how many are gone for good," she explained, picking up a needle and thread from the trolley. She then began to stitch up the wound, still smiling. It was starting to get creepy.

"My little darling Jane met with something much more powerful than you or I, or any mortal being, for that matter," she continued after finishing up the final stitches. Sarah had calmed down some, now standing behind Mary, still frightened. Mary had also cooled off. Maybe she was glad to see I wasn't dead, to an extent.

Mahon picked up the needle next. As I looked at it for a moment longer, Gacko began to freak out in my head. "Oh, fuck, Hank, we need to figure out a way out of this! That stuff is bad!"

"And I'm glad you found her," Mahon said, jabbing the needle into Jane's arm, injecting a tar-black liquid into her dead veins, "because Jonestown isn't just a dangerous place because of some higher beings. It's dangerous because of people like me as well!"

She screamed out the last part, laughing maniacally and making Sarah and Mary jump back, startled. Mahon had always been all about dramatic effect, but this was taking it to a whole new level. Mary was about to get pissed again, when all of our attention was taken by Jane's corpse. I could see the liquid which had been injected in her flow up through her veins, creating pulsating lumps in her joint. Her body began to convulse for a moment, until the liquid seemed to reach her neck.

At that point, Mahon turned to face the two girls, Sarah covering behind Mary. "You two really are fucking idiots, aren't you?"

A sickening cracking sound escaped Jane's body as the blackened flesh appeared to 'spread' at a frightening speed until it fully engulfed her entire body. Sarah screamed, Mary trying to grab Mahon's neck just as something burst out of Jane's chest. No, that wasn't it - it was more like her chest _was_ what was bursting.

Her flesh and bone itself contorted, something in between an animalistic roar and a metal screech emenating from the thing. Its head and jaw appeared first - its skull was elongated, similar to a dog's or maybe a wolf's skull, but not quite. The flesh on its head was as black as that of Jane's corpse, though the rest of its body was even more disturbing. It was pitch black, and not covered in fur, nor flesh or even bone. It was if it just was, black and almost fluid-like, pieces of its very being dancing around it like black flames. It turned its head towards me briefly, letting me see its dead, bulging eyes, and its bone-like jaw which seemed to not even be connected to the rest of its head. I yelped in fear, feeling the vomit build up in my throat again as I noticed how its eyes were dark green - the same color as Jane's were.

Mary had momentarily frozen up, but as the creature's front claws began to emerge from Jane's corpse, she came back to it, grabbing at Mahon's throat, the woman simply slapping her hand aside with a shit-eating grin on her face.

"What the fuck did you just do to her!?" Mary yelled, trying to attack the teacher again.

"Did you seriously think I was going to waste my time reviving some skank, and go through the effort of getting virgin blood for it?" Mahon asked, laughing. "Don't be daft! You will all make a fine offering to my lord - the very same one that killed that bitch to begin with!"

Mary essentially roared out in anger, throwing a punch and actually landing it on Mahon's jaw, making her stumble back, nearly falling onto Jane and the beast emerging from her flesh. It appeared to be about halfway out now, thrashing from side to side and constantly emitting that same screeching sound.

"Sarah! Cut Hank loose!" Mary called out as she went to punch Mahon again, but wound up in a grapple with her. The younger girl was slammed against the trolley, sending the medical instruments and chalice flying - along with them, the dagger.

Sarah was clearly scared beyond belief, her legs trembling harder than before. She wasn't even crying anymore - she was in so much shock she couldn't even fully process how she should feel. And yet she was my only hope for getting out alive.

"Sarah!" I yelled out. By now, my body had almost fully recovered - as a matter of fact, it felt like I hadn't been stabbed at all, were it not for all the blood and sweat still covering my abdomen. "Get the dagger and cut me free!"

Sarah's head turned to me rapidly, and the girl didn't hesitate to do as she was told. She ran over to where the dagger had landed, nearly tripping over the chalice on her way there.

"No! Get the fuck away from him!" screamed Mahon, but was distracted as Mary kneed her in the groin repeatedly, making the woman grunt and stumble back again. The creature's rear paws were now showing, slowly emerging from the corpse, a trail of burnt flesh and black ooze behind it.

Sarah whined, grabbing the dagger and rushing over to my table, fumbling with the blade slightly as she began to cut into the rope, sawing into it. It certainly took her a while to get through a single knot.

Meanwhile Mary was not doing so well against Mahon. The older woman had slammed the girl against the wall, though Mary had retaliated by biting Mahon's bloodied fingers. By this point, neither of them were paying attention to anything else, simply trying to end each other's life.

"Come on, come on..." Sarah mumbled, finally able to cut through one of the ropes holding down my wrist. I pulled on it, releasing my arm from the constraints. My hand was a bit sore, but Gacko quickly began work on that.

I grabbed the knife from Sarah, deciding that I was better off cutting the rest myself. "Run!" I ordered her in the most commanding voice I could muster. The girl was a bit surprised by this, clasping her hands together, darting her eyes around - first to me, then to the beast which had almost made its way out of Jane, then to the two women grappling to the side of the room.

"What the hell are you waiting for? Get out of here!" I commanded once again, starting to work on my right arm now. Luckily, it seemed like I should be able to slip out of the leg constraints after this one.

Sarah took a step back, then shook her head. "N-No! I'm not leaving y-you g-guys to die!"

"Jesus, as if she's going to be any help! Hank, you all need to get out before that thing gets loose!" Gacko spoke to me. As he said this, however, shit suddenly decided to get even worse. Though I had just managed to get loose, so did the dog beast. It jumped out of Jane's corpse, kicking it off the table as it did so, and landed on the ground. Sarah screamed, attracting the beast's attention, which was just _superb_.

Meanwhile Mary was losing footing. Mahon had punched her in the gut, making her collapse to her knees, only to be punched in the face and knocked down to the ground. Mahon grabbed a scalpel off the trolley and jumped on her student, the dark-haired girl having to use both her hands to keep the blonde from stabbing her.

The beast was drawing closer to Sarah, snapping its jaws at her. The young girl tripped over the tarp which now laid on the floor and fell backwards. I had little time to act. I could run and save myself, I could try to save Sarah, or I could go and get Mahon off of Mary. Those were my options.

I chose none of them.

"Hank, I know you're an idiot, but I know what you're about to do... Why is it that _now,_ of all times you want to be the hero? Oh, fuck it, at least you've grown a pair. Go for it." Gacko half-scolded me. I smirked and slid out of my restraints, hopping off from the table.

"Mary! Catch!" I shouted as I tossed the dagger her way, lunging at the beast myself. I punched it once in the side of the head, making it turn its attention towards me, then kicked it in its disconnected jaw. The creature recoiled, but recovered quickly, going for a bite at my shin. With Gacko's warning, however, I was able to pull my leg back in time. Not only that, but I was even able to give it another kick to its side with that same leg, making the thing stumble away.

Meanwhile Mary had heard me, the dagger landing half an arm's length away from her. She was holding back Mahon with both her arms, the blonde also trying to stab her with both. She had to take a risk to get out of this situation, an even bigger one than I took. She took one of her arms off of Mahon's, rolling herself to the side as she reached out for the dagger. Mahon's scalpel embedded itself in Mary's shoulder, but she retaliated by jamming the dagger in the side of Mahon's neck. A gargle, a sputtering of blood over Mary's face, and the woman's body went limp. Mahon was dead.

The beast I was fighting, meanwhile, was not. It charged at me again, but I was able to dodge it by leaping to the side. I found myself actually having fun here, as with each charge the beast made I was able to give it another kick. And one thing was for sure - compared to sparring with Robin, this was a piece of cake.

"Hank! You catch this time!" Mary called out to me, tossing the dagger over. I looked over to catch it, and instantly regretted that decision as I realized that I was vulnerable to the beast's attack now. As it was about to bite my outstretched arm, however, it was smacked in the head with the chalice, Sarah clutching it with a shaky hand.

"Nice!" I said as I took hold of the dagger, then slammed it down towards the confused creature, driving it into its skull. The being released the same screeching sound it did before, convulsed for a moment, then collapsed.

With that, so did I, falling to my knees with a deep exhale.

"We fuckin' did it," I muttered.

"I will say, Hank - that was pretty cool," commented Gacko.

Before I was able to act smug about his compliment, I was suddenly hugged by a crying, shaking redhead. Sarah had also dropped to her knees next to me, panting. "I-I'm sorry... I'm s-so sorry..." she kept repeating.

"Hey, hey, it's alright, we're all aliiii-" I looked over at Mary standing next to Mahon's corpse, then at Jane, then at the beast laying next to us. "The three of us are alive."

I slowly stood up, helping Sarah get up as well. Mary walked over, pulling the dagger out from the creature's skull and picking up the sheath from the floor. "Jesus, that all was just... fucked. It was all fucked," the girl said, then winced, clutching her side.

"You alright?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Fuck, Hank, I'm not the one that got stabbed in the stomach, are _you_ okay?"

I blinked, then looked down at my stomach. "Yeah. Just a flesh wound, really."

 

The three of us made it outside of the school building. Like I had expected, we were in the basement. My phone and keys were on Mahon's body, between her bosom. Considering everything that had just happened, retrieving them was a harrowing experience more than anything else.

I spotted my bike where I had left it, luckily enough. I then looked at the two girls beside me, one of them still sniffling, the other with a hole in her shoulder.

"They need to leave town and so do you," Gacko said to me, and I actually agreed for once.

"You two need to get out of Jonestown. A friend warned me earlier that something's going down tonight, and, uh. I probably should've listened."

"Yeah. _Probably._ " Gacko salted.

"Right. Sarah, we can head over to my place from here first, and-" before she could finish, Sarah hopped up on her toes and landed a kiss on my lips, wrapping her hands around me briefly, before pulling back with a happy smile.

"I hope we meet again, Hank... Please live," she said.

I had completely frozen up at that. My brain had shut down. I was unable to process anything other than the fact that her lip gloss tasted faintly of cherries. And blood. Maybe that second one wasn't lip gloss.

Mary laughed, then shoved the sheath with the dagger in my hands. "Yeah. Stay alive, Hank. You're actually pretty cool."

The two of them then turned and started heading off while I remained standing there, still incredibly confused.

"Wow. What a sweet, romantic moment. But, maybe it would be more romantic if they hadn't helped a woman try and kill you just now, using your blood as ritualistic sacrifice to summon what appeared to be a spawn of fucking Satan out the corpse of a young girl," Gacko commented.

"Yeah, yeah, I know-"

"Maybe even more romantic if a certain someone hadn't come to here in the first place, heeding the warning of a certain highly intelligent, and, dare I say, handsome-ass lizard," he continued.

"You're ruining it, y'know."

"Oh, I'm sorry? Am I ruining it like I ruined your mood earlier by telling you how something bad was going to happen and you shouldn't come to this quote-on-quote 'date'? My sincerest apologies, young master. At least your humble tattoo isn't one to say something along the lines of 'I told you so, you fucking jackass'."

"Would you shut up already!?" I yelled at my arm, just as a car stopped nearby. I looked over, and saw Michael looking out the rolled-down window of the Mustang currently being driven by Robin.

"Uh. You alright there, Hank?" he asked.

"...About as alright as I get these days."


	12. Blackout

If anyone other than Wayne had called Dick he would have told them to fuck off and stayed home. But if it was their boss telling them that shit was about to go down, he knew that it was for real. 

Still, it was his day off. He didn't feel like dressing up - or dressing at all, for that matter, and had gone out in just his wife beater and shorts. Now that he was outside, freezing his ass off, he regretted that decision. 

Dick had opted to bring along his revolver, an S&W Model 629. Matter of fact, this gun was the only thing he really owned at all before he joined The Masked Mob, a gift from his late dad. Along with the gun strapped to his belt, he had also gone ahead and taken the bag of money. Wayne had said that they might have to leave town - no way in hell was he going to leave without his cash.

At this point, the streets were only illuminated by the moonlight and the occasional passing car. It wasn't that dark outdoors, but it was certainly unnerving; it felt as though the entirety of Jonestown had gone down the shitter as badly as the industrial district. Dick thought he could occasionally hear faint screaming - whether or not this was just his imagination, he didn't know, nor did he want to.

It was quite a long walk from Dick's place to Wayne's. Around halfway, he started to notice a lot more cars speeding by. He thought nothing of it, until one of them passed, covered in blood. A Red Crow car, at that.

Dick stopped for a moment, then hurried his step. Wayne wasn't kidding. Something was way off in Jonestown.

A few minutes later, he could spot Wayne's place in the distance. As expected, all the lights were off, though he could spot _some_ light source moving around through the window, likely a candle or something. Seeing that put Dick at some ease. Hearing a loud screech just to the left of him, on the other hand, brought that unease back tenfold. 

Dick turned his head towards the sound, and was met by a pair of lifeless eyes staring into his, a massive, bipedal creature appearing to be covered in burns and some odd, flowing substance standing right beside him. He had no idea how it had gotten so close to him without as much as making a sound, but that was the least of his concerns at the time. 

Dick screamed out, stumbling back, the bag of money falling behind him. He tripped over it as he grabbed for his gun, the creature tilting its head, or, rather, it felt like its neck snapped into an entirely new position in an instant, another loud screech coming from where its mouth should be. A moment later, the thing had pounced on Dick, its lower jaw sliding open, revealing an oozing mouth hole full of jagged teeth. 

Its large, claw-like hands were trying to tear at Dick's face, but the man had blocked it with his arm, their sharp tips embedding in his skin. The creature's open maw was drawing closer, the pinned man unable to draw his gun in this position. 

Dick wasn't prepared for this when he had left his house tonight. He had been expecting The Red Crows acting up, government intervention in Jonestown, or maybe some sort of riot or the like. Ooze monsters? Not so much. And yet, in that moment, he decided to treat this creature like he would any other opponent.

And headbutted it.

This proved to be even more effective than he had thought it would be. The monster's bone structure, if it even had something like that, was somehow malleable and fragile. As the two heads collided, the beast recoiled, Dick hearing a satisfying crack come from the thing's skull. With the creature falling back, screeching, the man was able to pull his gun out of its holster, take aim and fire a round in its 'face'.

That seemed to do the trick, as the creature fell to its side, the same ooze which was covering its body now seeping from the hole in its head. Dick was panting, his arm bleeding slightly from its new wounds, but he was alive. For now, that was good enough.

The man stood up, rubbing his shaved head, slightly sore from the headbutt. He grabbed the bag from the ground, sighing as he stared at the creature's corpse. Then, he heard another screech from behind himself, the direction Wayne's house was.

He turned his gaze to the sound, pointing his gun at the creature standing before him, only to see its head explode, a dark-skinned man holding a shotgun behind it. The beast slumped over, ooze gushing from its neck hole. Dick lowered his gun, whistling.

"Fuck, Wayne. I think I'm gonna need an explanation as to what the fuck is going on here," Dick said.

"You and me both," responded Wayne.

 

"So, uh... you think that's normal?" Robin asked, slowing down the car as the lights around them had suddenly shut off. As a matter of fact, the entire city seemed to have gone dark.

"Probably definitely not," answered Michael, looking out of the window with suspicion. Just a minute ago, an entire Red Crow caravan had passed by. Those bastards being this active was never a good sign.

"I've heard this place is a shithole, but I didn't think that the power to the entire town could go out in an instant like that," Robin commented.

"It's more like the power was shut off on purpose. Wayne was right, something's up."

"Hank still not responding to calls?" 

"No, I think his phone is off. Fucking idiot," Michael muttered, pocketing his device, tapping the front panel nervously.

"I'm sure he's fine. I've been teaching him to fight, so, if anything, he can now hold his own. Hopefully."

"I'm not worried about someone else fucking him up, I'm worried he'll fuck himself up with-"

"What the fuck is that!?" Robin yelled out as something large, black and misshapen appeared in front of the car. She barely had time to break, the creature having appeared so suddenly, and crashed into it as a result. But, rather than just being run over, the thing clinged to the hood, its jaw crashing into the windshield and leaving a large crack.

The thing's eyes were glassed over and lifeless, its jaw seemed to be somehow detached from the rest of its head, and its body appeared to almost flow like a liquid or gas of some kind. Some of it even splashed onto the glass as the thing crashed against it, screeching.

"Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell?!" exclaimed Michael. 

"Mike, there's a gun in the glove compartment," Robin said, swerving the car in an attempt to knock the creature off to no avail. Its sharp claws dug into the metal of the hood, making the woman wince as her car suffered more and more damage.

"Wh-what?" Michael stammered out, startled and confused.

"Fucking grab the gun and shoot that thing! You can pay for replacing the windshield later!" Robin commanded, the young man deciding not to argue. He opened up the glove compartment and took out the SW1911 inside - he recognized it as one of Wayne's guns, assuming that he had let Robin borrow it. For a moment, he contemplated why she felt the need to have a gun on their first date, but he wasn't going to complain about it in their current situation.

He aimed up and fired, striking the beast in its shoulder joint through the windshield. As a result, its left front limb became entirely useless, losing its grip on the vehicle. Robin wasted no time and swerved the car to the side again, flinging the creature off - but not completely. The creature managed to hold onto the hood with one claw, and, as a result, smashed against the passenger side window - just where Michael was sitting. 

While he jumped at first, he tried to regain composure and aim at the creature's head, but Robin halted him. "Shoot its other claw, we can knock it down!"

Michael obliged, took aim and fired through the windshield again, the bullet hitting the beast in the lower part of its still-functioning appendage. The shot seemed to nearly snap the limb in half, its claws pulling back out from the metal. Soon, the beast was long behind them.

Michael wiped some sweat off his brow. "Fuck... Good call, I could've wound up breaking that window just to have it bite my head off."

"Hey, you're right! I just didn't want you to break another fuckin' window," Robin answered with a laugh.

 

"What the fuck happened to your car, by the way?" I asked, noticing the damage that the Mustang's hood had sustained. 

"Attacked by a monster. What the fuck happened to your stomach?" Michael asked in return.

"Stabbed so my blood could be used to summon a monster, actually," I responded.

"Oh, shit, really? Are you - wait, did Mahon do that?"

"Yes."

"So she needed you to-"

"Yes."

"- use you as a blood sacrifice -"

"Yes."

"- because you're a virgin?"

"Eat my ass, Michael."

"Hey, could you two flirt later? We're dealing with monsters and a town-wide blackout right now, so we should hurry our asses back to Wayne," Robin said.

"Right, right," I said, climbing into the back of the car, "Wayne? Shouldn't we just, like. Get out of town?"

"Probably, but Wayne told us to meet up with him first," Michael said, showing me a text from Wayne saying just that. 

I nodded. "Well, alright then. But, uh, could you drop me off at my place, first? I need to warn my parents. I can just catch up with you guys on my bike, later."

"Sure you ain't gonna die, Hank?" Robin asked, glancing back at me as she started the engine.

I smirked, tossing a look down at Gacko. "Pretty sure."

 

 

 


	13. Death

Robin stopped the car in front of my place and I opened the door to leave, when Michael spoke up.

"You _sure_ you'll be alright, Hank? There's some crazy shit going on around here. Maybe we should wait for you?"

"Nah, I need to get my parents to get out of town as well. I'll be fine, so long as I got my bike."

"If you say so. Oh, and one more thing - Wayne told us to bring our masks and cloaks, and any guns if you still have any laying around," Michael said, leaning out the window as I had already stepped out.

"I get guns, but why the cloak and mask?"

"Dunno. I'm not going to be getting mine, since I ain't heading home. Dad's calling and freaking out already; if I head back, there's no way I'll get to meet up with you guys. And, y'know, you'll probably die without me around to save your asses," Michael said with a smirk.

"Psh. Don't get yourself killed, either, then," I responded and raised my hand in goodby as I backed away to the front door. Just like the rest of town, our place was completely in the dark. Or, at least, it was right up until I walked up to the front door, when all the lights suddenly lit up with a buzz, making me cover my eyes.

It took a moment to adjust and step inside, where I was immediately greeted by the sound of high-heeled shoes clacking against the hard floors as my mom hurried from room to room, panicking. She didn't even notice me, or the fact that I appeared to have been stabbed in the stomach.

"Alright, generator's running, but we shouldn't stick around. Grab anything we need and..." my dad spoke as he stepped into the hall from the dining room, then stopped as he saw me. "Hank! Thank goodness, you're alri- What happened to your stomach?!"

"It's... It's a long story, but don't worry, I'm completely fine. Do you know what's happening in Jonestown?" I asked.

"Well, not exactly, but..." he said, but was interrupted by my mom rushing past him to wrap her arms around my neck, lightly sobbing.

"Oh, thank God you're o-okay! M-M-Mariel's son, h-he was... he was out w-with h-his friend and he, he was... Oh, God, I'm so glad you're okay!" she stammered. I was surprised, and the only thing I could do was gently pat her on the back. I couldn't recall the last time my mom was worried about me like this. Hell, I wasn't sure that had ever happened before.

My dad smiled. "It's alright, Margareth. He's a tough lad, monsters or not," he said, heading over and placing a hand on my shoulder. "Get your things packed, we're heading out of town."

I rubbed the back of my neck, mom having pulled back, still sniffling, her usually oh-so-perfect makeup ruined, black streaks leading from her eyes all the way down to her chin. I turned to face my dad.

"I won't be leaving yet," I said.

"You what?" Asked my mom.

"You fucking _what_?" asked Gacko. "Fucking, get your shit, bring them to Wayne, get the fuck out of town. I'd prefer if you'd leave right away, but by now I know you're a stubborn idiot, so I'll make do."

"I-I can't leave my friends behind. Listen, I'll get my stuff, meet up with them and get out of town right after. I'll be fine, I got my bike and-" before I could even finish my thought, my head was jerked to the side as my mother slapped me across the face.

"What the hell is wrong with you!?" she screamed. "Do you have any idea what's going on out there? What... What things are out there, killing people?"

I had to reel back from the slap, Gacko snickering in my mind. I guess he appreciated that one.

"I'll be fine, okay? I... Just trust me. Please."

My mother opened her mouth to say something else, but instead just took a deep breath and stormed off, continuing to pack her valuables. My dad watched her go, then turned to me again.

"She's right to be worried, son. I don't know what's going on, but just before the power went out, I was getting a huge number of reports from all over town. I managed to intercept police radios, too - apparently, there are 'monsters', or something. I don't know what those reports were talking about, but people are dying."

He then dug through his pockets for a moment and produced a small USB flash drive. "This drive contains all of my life's work, the designs and software for the mech included. If something happens to me, I want you to have this."

"What-"

"I have another flash drive with me, and I'm also bringing my laptop along, so it shouldn't be lost. I don't intend to die, but neither should you," he continued, not letting me say anything in between as he placed the thing in my hand. My old man then looked me straight in the eyes. "Promise me you'll be able to bring this back to me."

I looked down at the drive, then clasped my fingers over it, nodding. "I promise."

He patted me on the shoulder. "Attaboy. You should hurry, now. We're leaving in ten minutes or so, so you should get your things packed as well. I'll leave the spare key on the kitchen table. Good luck, son."

He gave me a hug, which was almost as suprising as my mom's earlier reaction, then went to join her in getting their shit together. I took one more glance at the flash drive in my hand, then pocketed it as I hurried up the stairs.

"Chances are, Wayne wants you to bring your mask and cloak along because they might be found by the Red Crows after you flee town," Gacko said as I stepped into my room and headed towards the closet. "I say you just destroy it now and leave."

"I want to make sure everyone else is fine, too," I responded out loud as I opened the doors and started digging through my clothes, looking for the box with the cloak and mask in it. "And... Fuck, I don't want to just destroy it. Call me an idiot, but it's important to me."

"You're an idiot," the lizard said bluntly.

"Yeah, I know," I said and continued digging through my stuff. Since I was going to be fleeing town, I figured I should take some necessities with me. I took my toothbrush, a towel, deoderant, my charger, my wallet, a scarf and gloves in case it got cold, some nicknacks here and there. I looked at my bag one more time, then at the cloak and mask still sitting by it and clacked my tongue. "I definitely am."

"Fucking hell, Hank, we don't really have all the time in the world here!" Gacko nagged.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I said and tossed the cloak over my shoulders. I assumed my mom and dad would have left by now, so I wasn't too worried about them seeing me and asking questions.

"Right, you got your fashion and your makeup ready. How about you take _your fucking gun, genius_?" Gacko asked sarcastically.

I didn't really have a retort for that. I can't say I had forgotten it per se - it was more that I didn't really want to bring it, actually. I was terrible with guns. It's not that I couldn't hit the broad side of a barn, no - I'd be more likely to hit an entirely different barn. 

Still, I shuffled myself back to the closet, my mask now resting on the top of my head, and dug through it once more. I pulled out a Colt Delta Elite, still in its holster - a gun that Wayne had gotten me to practice my shooting with. Guess who had never done that?

I was about to put the holster on my belt, when I remembered the dagger still there. "Hm. Think I should leave it?"

"I think you should leave _everything_ and run. But, if you don't plan to do that, then no, keep it. You can't shoot for shit, but I think you can figure out how to stab something," Gacko answered. I nodded and put the holster on the other side of my belt. I then grabbed my bag, pushed my mask over my face and hurried downstairs. 

 

"...Did he seriously not charge his phone?" Michael muttered, staring at his phone. As it were, the light from its screen was the only thing lighting up the room at all.  Wayne had gone downstairs to grab more ammo, taking the lantern with him,and leaving Michael and Robin watching the front door while Dick was keeping an eye on the back. The whole lot of them were in deep shit right now.

Michael and Robin had arrived just in the nick of time, as minutes later, the Red Crows arrived. Chances are, on of the Masked Mob's informants had ratted them out, and now these bastards were hoping to use the state of chaos Jonestown was in to get away with killing the whole lot of them. Luckily, it seemed like the Crows weren't quite expecting them to be so well armed and prepared, as the firefight had started with three of the gangsters being mowed down by AR-15 fire. 

It seemed like they were being more careful now, having turned off all their headlights and gone completely silent. Chances are, they didn't realize they were dealing with just four people, one rifle between the four of them. Right now, that was their biggest advantage.

"Man, Hank's... Kind of an idiot, isn't he?" Robin asked, loading a magazine into her own handgun.

"Yes, yes he is," Michael said in response and sighed, pocketing his phone and picking up his rifle.

"You really worry about that guy, y'know. You two close?"

"Yeah, I guess. We've been friends since... second grade? Third? One or the other. He's a good guy, but... He trusts his gut more than he does his mind. It makes him make stupid mistakes, and... Fuck, sometimes, I wonder how long he'll actually last in a town like this."

 

I shivered after getting out on the driveway, the garage door closing behind me. It was a bit chilly outside, so I tightened my cloak a little around my shoulders before driving onto the road. Wayne's place was a 5 minute drive away at most, so the cold wasn't that big of a problem. 

So, I started driving. The town was a mess, that's for sure, and completely in the dark. Every so often, I'd pass a car with its headlights still on, left on the side of the road. Some of those cars were Red Crow ones, and occasionally, they'd be covered in blood and black ooze. This was far from a promising sight.

But, it could get worse. As I got closer to the industrial district, it momentarily seemed like the lights were still on, but I soon realized that wasn't the case. What I thought were streetlights were either abandoned police cars, crashed ambulances or raging fires, take your pick, they were all there. Crashed and parked cars lined the entire road leading up to the district, which made me not even think twice about all the cars around Wayne's place.

Had I thought about it a moment longer, I could have realized something was wrong. Why were all those cars seemingly surrounding the house? Why were their headlights off? Could I not see the figures moving around in the darkness, or consider the reasons why all these cars had supposedly stopped in the first place?

It wasn't like I had much time to consider those questions afterwards, as what followed was a gunshot and muzzle flash just up ahead. My mask shattered in front of me, the bullet crushing through it and striking me in the head. I couldn't hold my balance - no, I couldn't even hold my own body. I couldn't think, and I couldn't breathe, even though I had been fine a moment ago. Gacko was telling me something, but it was all inaudible, like I was listening to my own thoughts through water.

My bike leaned to the side as I slumped on the handlebars. The bike swerved and flipped, sending me flying along with it, my body crashing into the asphalt. There was immense, unbearable pain in every part of my body.

And then it was all gone.

 


	14. Pain

You know that feeling you get when you know something's wrong, but can't tell what it is? When you open your eyes in the morning, and your stomach seems to turn, and you can't force yourself to get out of bed because you realize you've messed up _big time_ the previous day? You feel like you could throw up, and you'd rather just crawl back into bed until everyone forgets you exist.

Well, take that and multiply it by a thousand, and you get how it feels like to wake up after you've already died.

"Hank, stay still, and try to keep your breathing even," Gacko ordered me, and I obliged. Rather, I didn't feel like I had a choice.

I was laying on the concrete, my limbs spread out, my face pressed against the ground. I could see a faint light coming from inside Wayne's place, and two figures loitering around the front door. From the looks of it, they were Crows. Damn it.

However, I could also spot several dead bodies near the front. Chances are, the Crows had arrived expecting an easy fight, but bitten off more than they could chew. Sucked to be them. 

And it also sucked to be me. There was a streek of blood leading to me from where my bike had crashed...

...Where my bike had crashed.

My bike had fucking crashed.

Somehow, out of everything that had just happened, this hurt me the most. My poor, poor baby had been totalled. Not only had it crashed into the ground as I fell, it had also slammed into one of the parked cars. One of the handlebars had snapped off, the engine was barely holding together and the back tire was bent in a 45 degree angle. It was dead.

I shut my eyes and forced myself not to cry. 

"Seriously, Hank? Your brain was just splattered along the concrete here, and you're crying over your fucking bike?"

"Fuck you, Gacko, that bike was expensive! And fast! And... so cool." I muttered.

"Keep your mouth shut, crayons-for-brains, you can talk to me with your thoughts. If you get heard, you're actually dead for good."

"Wait, how come? Can't you heal me back up, anyway?" I pondered, feeling a little bit of life return to my limbs.

"I don't know. Probably not. The more injured you are, the more difficult it is for me to regenerate your wounds. And, so far, it isn't getting easier the more I heal. I think there's only so much I can do before you're done."

"Fuckin' fantastic."

"Alright, you should be able to stand. You still have your gun, so... Okay, here's the plan: You sneak over to one of the cars, find one that's not locked, and drive off. Got it?" Gacko asked.

"...No."

"Hank, I won't be able to heal you if you get hurt again."

"I don't care. I'm not leaving everyone in there," I responded defiantly. Or, as defiant as I could make myself sound with my mind. 

"Fucking hell, you're an idiot. But at least you have some cojones. Alright, try and sneak up on the guy farther from the window over there. Get your gun ready, but don't shoot yet, alright?" Gacko instructed.

I pushed myself off the ground and got up on my knees. I then got into a crouching position and started creeping up on the guy currently standing on the driveway. The other one was trying to peer in through the window. I could hear someone yelling from the back yard, but no gun shots. I wasn't sure if this was a good sign.

I took my Colt out from my jacket and aimed at the back of the man's head as I got closer to him. I needed to figure out a way to take down both him and the other guy without getting shot myself. I had to...

Just as I was about to ask Gacko for advice, the window ahead shattered into pieces, three gun shots coming from inside the house. All three struck the man in the chest, and there was little doubt that he was dead as a doornail.

To be fair, it made my task a whole lot easier. Before the man could even react to the death of his partner, I pulled the trigger. The bullet hit him in the back of the head, and he was dead in an instant. I momentarily froze up, my hand trembling slightly.

I had just taken a life.

Not only tonight had been the first time I had seen a dead body, it had also been the first time I had to kill someone. It was strange - the realization only came over me after I had already done it. It was nauseating. It felt wrong. I didn't even know who this man was, other than the fact that he was a Red Crow. He could've been just like me, for all I knew. Someone who found himself in a gang at a young age, someone who just wanted to survive in a town like this. I felt vomit build up in the back of my throat, just like it had done back in that basement. 

"Hank, snap out of it and get the fuck inside!" Gacko called me back into reality. I shook my head and ran up to the door, hearing more yelling and approaching footsteps from behind the house.

As I reached for the doorknob, said door unexpectedly opened, resulting in me falling face-first onto the floor.

"Hank!?" Michael yelled out, as Wayne pulled me inside proper. Michael slammed the door shut. Moments later, bits of wood and shrapnel rained over me as the Crows began to open fire into the door. Some of them tried shooting into the dark through the windows, too, tearing up the walls and sending shards of glass in every direction.

I coughed a bit. "Yup, in the fuckin' flesh."

"We saw you get shot in the fucking head!" Dick chimed in, currently taking cover near one of the windows, his back pressed up against the wall, revolver in hand.

"Yeah, uh, kind of a long story, but I'm a bit harder to kill now. I'll- I'll explain later."

"Are you a fuckin' zombie now?!" Dick called out again, then took a few shots out the window. He pulled back just in time, as another stream of bullets flew in, destroying the closet on the other side of the room. 

"Oh, fucks' sake, man, all my dinnerware was in that closet!" Wayne shouted. Right now, the only thing really illuminating the house was a lantern Wayne was carrying and a couple of lights that the Crows were shining in through the windows. The rest of the house was pitch black.

I shook my head slightly, rubbing my forehead. "I'm not sure _what_ I am. But we need to get the hell out of here. From what I saw in town, I'd say the Crows are the least of our worries."

"I think the fact that you're a zombie should be a concern!" Dick yelled.

Michael rubbed his temple. "Okay, this is... A lot take in right now. The fact that Jonestown is under assault from monsters and shit was fucked up already. You coming back from the dead is just on an entirely different level."

"Yes, it's fucking weird, but could we please deal with the situation we're in first?" another voice chimed in. Gacko. Out loud.

At this point, everyone in the room sort of stopped what they were doing and stared at my arm, the lizard tattoo currently looking between everyone present. "What?"

"Your... tattoo. Did it just talk?" Robin asked, squinting at it. 

"Yes, and Hank just died. Shit's weird, let's get over it for now," Gacko continued.

"I mean, uh. He's got a point," I commented.

"Your tattoo just talked," Robin repeated. "Shit, are you, like a rip-off from that guy in Elektra?"

"What?" Michael asked, turning to face Robin now.

"Elektra, starring Jennifer Garner? No?"  Robin asked.

"No, but could we... Maybe go back to Hank's tattoo being _fucking alive_?" Michael questioned, gesturing towards Gacko.

"Yes, yes, talking lizard tattoo. Spooky shit. We're all about to die unless we figure a way to get the Crows off of our backs," Gacko reminded everyone.

"Wait, shit, your lizard died, too! Is it also a zombie? A zombie in - er, on a zombie?" Dick pondered as another hail of bullets struck the wall next to him.

"Think it's more like a ghost thing, if anything," suggested Robin.

"Why are all of you acting so nonchalant about this?!" asked Michael.

"To be fair, Mikey, Hank did just come back from the dead, and, like you said, we're dealing with monsters and shit. Ain't like a talking lizard is the weirdest thing we've seen tonight," Wayne explained.

"Guys with guns. They want to kill us. Like, kill us dead. How about _one_ of you does something?" Gacko said, getting impatient. 

It was at this point that a voice reached us from outside, amplified through a megaphone or radio, or something. 

"Masked Mob, we have got you surrounded," the voice said, a clear latino accent being present, though I couldn't place it. 

Wayne shook his head. "That's Inocencio Martinez. Fucking bastard."

The voice continued: "You thought you could take _my_ money, from _my_ office and get away with it? It is a damn shame that your informant ratted you all out, but don't worry - last I saw him, we had let him loose in his own house, devoured his whole family! Less you all want to go through the same, get the fuck out here, _now_!"

"Devoured his whole family..." Michael muttered.

"They must be making those things, just like Mahon," commented Gacko. "Jesus, were they the ones who released them on to the city?"

"Mahon? Wait, what do you mean 'Just like Mahon'?" Dick asked.

"Mahon used Hank's blood to make one of those creatures from a corpse. They used some sort of substance for it, and it's... it's bad," Gacko explained.

"Well, one thing's for sure, we are _not_ going out there," Wayne said.

"I have an idea," I spoke up.

"Hank, I actually hate you," Gacko uttered as I turned to face Wayne. 

"Wayne, I'll need to borrow your shotgun."

"Hank, I'm serious, if you do this, we're fucked," Gacko said.

"I don't think it'll help us much, Hank. This thing isn't great at range to begin with, and well, you ain't no marksman," Wayne responded. By now, Michael had collected himself somewhat, positioning himself by a window in the room to our left, as Dick was by the window to our right. Mike started blindfiring out the window, and, from the screams coming from outside, he had managed to hit someone.

"I know. But even I should be able to hit him if I'm right up in his face, right?" I asked. Gacko audibly groaned.

"Wait, what do you mean?" Wayne asked.

"Thanks to Gacko, I can take a lot more punishment. It's how I survived getting stabbed, and how I got through what just happened out there without dying. If I can get to that Martinez guy and shoot him, maybe..."

"Hank, I already told you that I won't be able to heal you anymore," Gacko reminded me.

"But can you keep me alive?" I asked.

Gacko was hesitant to respond. "Yes."

"Wait, hold up, Hank - the moment you step out that door, you'll be riddled with bullets. Not only that, but how much good will it do for you to kill that prick?" Wayne asked. By now, the others were all busy shooting at the Crows. Robin had taken a spot next to Dick, since Michael had the only rifle with him.

"Let me put it this way - if you were one of those thugs out there, and a guy ran out, covered in blood, and shot your boss point-blank with a shotgun, how would you react? Especially if it looked like firing at him did nothing?"

"I'd shit myself, most likely," Wayne answered.

"Right. As for getting hit... You'll need to distract them just as I am about to run out. Gacko, how fast _are_ your reaction times, exactly?"

"Faster than yours, that's for fucking sure."

"Perfect. Think you can help me dodge some shots?"

"You're a lunatic, Hank."

"It runs in the family."

 

 

 

 


	15. Rush

"That's fuckin' suicide!" Michael called out as he reloaded his weapon. I was already preparing myself, weighing the shotgun in my hands. It was quite heavy, though I couldn't tell how much the fact that I was tired and hurt as shit was playing part. Wayne had also given me his own bulletproof vest. If I got shot, it wouldn't help much, but it was better than nothing.

"That's what I've been telling him," Gacko chimed in, "but if there's one thing I've learned about Hank, it's that he isn't going to give up when he sets his mind on something. If you think you have it bad, imagine sharing a body with him."

"He's a fucking idiot!" Michael responded.

"He sure is," Gacko agreed.

"Uh, I'm still right here. It's physically impossible for me _not_ to be here," I said, scratching my cheek.

"Oh, we're aware," Gacko said. "I'd be happier if you stayed here, too, rather than dying out there."

"We don't have a choice. This entire town is going to shit. If we don't do something now, either the Crows will make a move, or we'll have bigger problems at our doorstep," I explained, checking to make sure the gun was fully loaded. Though, to be fair, I would only need one shot. If i would have to use any more, I'd already be fucked.

"Hate to say it, but you're right. But, shit, you sure you'll be alright out there?" Wayne asked.

"No," I responded.

Wayne chortled at that. "Fuck, Hank. Don't think I've said this enough - you're actually one badass son of a bitch."

"Thanks, I guess. Hopefully I can, uh. Continue being that after tonight."

"Hey, once we get out of here, I'm buyin' you a beer. Shit, drink's on me for everybody," Wayne said, patting me on the back, then positioned himself near Michael.

"Tell us when you're ready," Robin said, pressing her back against the wall.

I nodded and gripped my shotgun tighter. For a moment, everything was silent, or, at the very least, it seemed like it was. 

"Hank, the moment you go out that door, I want you to concentrate on nothing other than me. It'll get loud, but tune everything else out. Got it?" Gacko asked.

"Got it," I said with a nod. I then placed my hand on the doorknob and took a breath. 

"GO!" I screamed out as I flung the door open and ran through. But a few moments later, everyone inside opened fire on the Crows. They were prepared to retaliate, but, as expected, all of them turned their attention towards me.

Later, I would find out just how much information Gacko took in the moment the door opened, and it would astonish me. He saw that Martinez was standing behind one of the cars parked in front of the house, holding a handgun. He saw that the Crows still at the front of the house had split into two groups, 6 on either side, as well as three behind the cars near Martinez.

And, most importantly, he saw a way to get to him.

"Duck low and lean left!" Gacko instructed. I did so as bullets started flying my direction. Two of the shooters on the right fired first, both armed with rifles, their shots barely missing at first. Many of those shots tore through my cape, leaving massive holes in it.

"Sidestep right, left, right, straight!" Gacko continued to command. I had no time to think or fuck around. I did everything he told me the moment he did it - with my first sidestep, all hell broke loose, as all ten of the Crows opened fire. Two on the left and one on the right started firing at the others, however, and one on the right got shot himself.

On my next step, I got hit. I had been too slow, apparently, and the bullet struck my arm just beneath the elbow. I could only count myself lucky that the shot hadn't hit the bone or any nerves, as that would've ruined the entire plan. One of the men behind the cars was hit by a stray bullet, making the other three, Martinez included, cower slightly. Perfect.

Another step to the right, and I was over halfway to Martinez. Two more shots hit me, one from the right and one fired by Martinez himself. The shot from the right struck me in the side, not far from where I had been stabbed earlier. The shot from Martinez, however, came close to doing me in, as it pierced through my left cheek, blood splattering over my face. If that step I just took had been just a little shorter, I would've been shot through the brain again, an experience I didn't want to repeat.

By now, Martinez was clearly terrified, and everyone's attention had been turned towards me. This was a costly mistake for them, as the four still at the house were able to actually aim their shots, rather than relying on blindfire. 

While the Crows concentrated fire on me, the three men on the right and two on the left were mowed down by the gang. On his way out, one of the thugs on the left hit me in the back of my leg. I felt pain course through my body as Gacko hurried to keep me stable, leaving his previous task of just keeping the pain at bay. Still, I kept going.

I was just in front of the car. The three men hadn't stopped firing, Martinez and another one armed with handguns, and the third with a submachine gun. The third gunner was also the one who did the most damage to me at the end there. My stomach and chest was riddled with 9mm bullets, and it didn't take long for them to tear through my body armor at this range. Blood sputtered out from my mouth, as it filled my lungs and gushed from my body. But I kept going, which resulted in the gunner screaming and dropping his gun. Both thugs scuttled for their cars, actually, leaving Martinez alone.

I extended my uninjured leg on top of the car and pulled myself over it, shotgun still in my hands, my vision blurred by blood, sweat, tears and some sort of white light.

Martinez was a latino man in his late 30s, or maybe early 40s. He had light brown hair, swept back to keep out of his eyes, flowing down to the base of his neck at the back. He had olive green eyes, which now stared at me in horror. Just a moment before I fired, my body twitched as Gacko expelled several bullets from my flesh. They bounced off the hood of the car with quiet, metallic clangs.

"My turn," I gargled out through the blood filling my mouth, and blasted the man in the stomach with the shotgun. He was launched back by the force of the blow, collapsing on the ground with a massive, red hole in his gut. The second man I had killed that night.

I shivered, and dropped the shotgun by my feet, dropping to my knees on the hood of the car. I was briefly blinded as the headlights of the two other cars parked next to me came on, the two thugs having picked a different car each. They slammed on the gas and drove off, one of them hitting the car I was currently on once before fucking off. Bastard nearly knocked me off.

A quick glance to the left, and I could tell why they hadn't taken this car. It was the one which my bike had crashed into, and it appeared to have suffered nearly as badly. Plus, it was now covered in bullet holes. Great. 

"Hank!" I heard Michael call out from behind, making me turn my head around. As a result of this, however, I fell down on my back. It was at this point that the pain really hit. 

Dear god, the _pain_.

Every single part of my body ached, and Gacko couldn't help me. My arm, face and leg hurt the most, but the way my chest and stomach felt was the worst. I didn't feel pain there, no. It was just numbness. Like my entire center of mass wasn't really there, as if it had been replaced with a bag of rocks. It was dead weight.

I heard at least four more gunshots echo in the night. I weakly turned my head to face the house, and saw that the gang had just dealt with the last couple of Crows, who had been hiding in the back yard. I smiled weakly. Everyone was alright.

Michael and Robin ran up to me first. 

"Jesus, man. That was insane," Michael muttered as he tried pulling me up. I was in pain, but I didn't complain. I didn't much enjoy laying on concrete, either. However, as he did this, I saw him wince as well, which turned my attention to his shoulder.

"Fuck, you're shot!" I said.

"Yeah, I ain't hearing that from you!" Michael responded. And, yeah, he did have a point.

He and Robin got me up on my feet and supported me on their shoulders, Robin also grabbing the shotgun from the ground. I spat out some blood and looked ahead to see Wayne and Dick approaching. 

"Looks like your car is out of commission," Wayne said to Robin, pointing his thumb at the vehicle currently parked on the driveway. It was covered in bulletholes, and it seemed like all the tired had been popped.

"I hope you know that means you're getting me a new car," she said with a smirk and tossed the shotgun over to Dick. How someone could so heartlessly cast aside their vehicle like that, I would never know.

"Shit, once we get out, I'll get you a lambo for all I fuckin' care," he said, then turned to Dick. "Dick, go check if any of the other cars work. The rest of you, get Hank inside and bring out our shit. We're getting the hell out of tow-"

A disturbing laugh turned our attention away from Wayne. Said laugh was coming from where I had left Martinez. The man was now approaching us, his eyes glimmering in the faint light from Wayne's lantern. But, what was the most disturbing part of his image was his stomach. The hole I had put in him was slowly closing, but not with flesh like it would on me, for example. Instead, it was filling in with the same putrid, black substance that the creature in the school basement had been made of.

"Don't think you're the only one who can pull that shit off, kid!" The man screamed, producing a needle from his pocket. Neither Dick nor Wayne waited to see what he planned to do, and opened fire on him immediately. But, just like I had survived being shot earlier, he seemed to care very little about the bullets striking him in the chest, and one that struck him in the side of the head. His eyeball fell from its socket, dangling from its nerves as the hole in his head began to close up, just like very other wound.

"How about I show you some _real shit_ , huh?" Martinez yelled, then jabbed the needle into his flesh, injecting himself with the black substance inside of it. The same black substance that Mahon had used. 

All of us stepped back from him, as Dick and Wayne reloaded their guns to fire again. The man continued to laugh for a moment longer, before yelping in pain. His one remaining eye rolled back into his head, and his mouth began to foam with the black ooze from earlier. His entire body seemed to cramp up as his chest started to bulge out. In a matter of moments, his skin turned into the same rotten, burned flesh that the monsters were made of, and he went completely silent. That was, until one of those creatures burst out from his body, charging at us. 

This thing was different from the others. It had no mouth, and the only notable feature on its face was a single bulging eye. Its limbs were even more disproportionate than those of the others, with its elongated arms ending in clawed hands that reached all the way to the ground. And, what was most frightening about it, it was fast. It was faster than any living creature I had seen up until that day. It was like one of those big cats you always hear about on those nature documentaries, heading after its prey. And for this thing, that pray appeared to be us.

Dick fired two shots from his revolver, both hitting the thing to little effect, but Wayne... Wayne saw what the thing was doing. Michael and Robin couldn't defend themselves while carrying me on their shoulders, not very effectively, at least. The thing looked intent on killing three birds with one stone. Wayne didn't let that happen.

He jumped forward, the creature's right claw piercing through his chest and stopping just an inch away from Robin's face. He had planted his feet into the ground, but the force from the creature's charge still pushed him back, kicking up dirt. The man didn't falter. He raised his handgun and fired, striking the creature twice in the head, then thrice in its arm. Despite it having no mouth, the beast screeched, but Wayne simply grinned. He slammed his elbow into the creature's arm, just where he had shot it, and the limb snapped off entirely. 

The monster stumbled back, continuing to screech, more of the black ooze gushing from its stump. Dick screamed in rage and rushed forward, blasting the creature in the head repeatedly with the shotgun, and soon, it collapsed once more, falling down just a few feet from Martinez, whose unnaturally contorted body still seemed to secrete the black substance. 

But all of us couldn't give less of a shit about that. We crouched down next to Wayne, trying to figure out how to get the claw out, and how to fix him, and...

"Fuck, man... so much for... buying you all... a beer..." Wayne pushed out in between harsh breaths. The claw must have torn apart one of his lungs. He was dying.

"Fucking hell, Wayne, if you die on me..!" Robin cried out, tears forming in her eyes. Dick dropped down next to us as well, an expression of pure anger on his face.

"Shit... I don't... think I.... have a choice..." he said, and coughed up a large amount of blood. "Robin, listen... you all need to get... out of town. Now. And... keep Mikey safe.... alright?" He said, smiling despite his suffering.

"Fuck you!" she replied, trying to hide the fact that she was crying. "You t-told me this whole gang th-thing wouldn't end l-like this! You s-said you'd r-retire from it!"

"It's what you get... for trusting me..." he responded, and turned slightly to face Dick. "Yo... Dick..."

"Fuck, what is it, boss?" Dick said. He seemed like he didn't even know how to react. For as long as I had known the guy, he had been overly confident and cocky, head-strong and defiant. To see him so torn was... it was something else.

"That... thing you always... wanted to say? I... I'm gonna let... you say it..." Wayne stammered out, raising his hand slightly.

There was a short pause. Dick then smacked his palm into Wayne's, the two of them locking hands as tears started rolling down Dick's cheeks as well. "Wayne, you were one badass nigga!"

"And... don't you ever... fucking forget it..." Wayne said, then laid his head back in the dirt. For a moment, everything fell silent again.

Then Dick, Michael and I screamed, the former two clutching their wrists while I fell down onto the ground. I stared down at my hand in horror to see the tattoo on it twist and turn for a moment, before the red circle faded out slightly and was scratched out by what seemed to be a cross burned into our flesh. 

One of the four had died.

 

 


	16. Curse

Michael was staring at his wrist, his entire body shaking. "What the fuck was that?"

"Jesus, whatever it was, I felt it, too..." Gacko said, climbing up to my neck. "Safe to say, something is not right with your tattoos, either. They're somehow connected. I don't think they're... possessed, the way I'd describe my current situation. More like... cursed."

"Fucking cursed my ass!" Dick growled out, standing back up on his feet. "I don't give two shits about any curses. We're getting the hell out of here, like Wayne told us to. Robin, check the cars, see if we can get away with one of them. I'll go grab our shit."

With that, he rushed towards the house. It was unusual to see Dick take the lead like this, but, at the same time, I guess I couldn't see him following anyone other than Wayne, either. I looked at Wayne's body, shivering again. He had been a good friend, one I had known for years, and it hurt me to the core to see him gone. I could only imagine how Dick felt, the two of them having known each other for most of their lives.

I shook my head lightly, and looked down. Michael sighed next to me. "I... wonder if we should've just left everything. Wayne should've just fled town as well..." 

I half expected Gacko to say 'I told you so', but he seemed to restrain himself. At least he had _some_ tact. 

I slowly nodded. "...Yeah. We should've. The Crows should've been the only ones to rot in their own mess."

Dick hurried out from the house, carrying a duffelbag, Michael's rifle in one hand and Wayne's shotgun in the other. "I got as much spare ammo in this as I could," he said and looked between us. "You two better stop moping the fuck around."

I blinked and looked up at him. "What?"

"You heard me. Get your asses up and go help Robin or some shit. Wayne didn't save your asses so you could whine about it," he responded and started heading towards the parked cars. We didn't have to be told twice. Michael helped me up on my feet and supported me as we headed after him.

"...Shit!" Was the first thing we heard from Robin's mouth.

"What is it?" Michael asked.

"It looks like there might be just one car that's remotely functional, with how much all of them have been shot up. And it doesn't have the fucking keys in it," she answered, slamming her fist against the hood.

"Crap. Think one of these bastards has it on them?" Dick pondered, checking the back seat.

"Fuck knows... Wait, do you all hear that?" she then asked.

We all stood in silence for a moment. There was definitely something. All of us seemed to realize what the case was around the same time, turning our heads in fear towards the sound. It was coming from down the road, towards the residential area. Horrid, unnatural screeching.

An entire horde of those things was heading our way, though it didn't seem like they were in much of a hurry. I couldn't tell how many there were, but one of them was definitely taking the lead - a figure whose outline was even more blurred out than those of the other creatures. It seemed to have additional appendages extending from its shoulders, if you could call them that, as they appeared to end in spikes - I could see them as they had a clear, metallic shine to them.

But what frightened me more wasn't the size of the horde itself - it was the sheer size of some of the creatures, towering over the rest. Lord knows how those things came to be, but they looked like those kaiju monsters, or something. If we were to face one of those, we were fucked in every way possible.

"We don't have the time to look for the fucking key, everyone, haul ass!" Dick ordered.

"Hank is in no shape to run!" Gacko exclaimed.

"Everyone, hold up! Robin, how'd you figure that car survived the shootout?" I asked.

"What? Well, shit, it seems to have... It's been reinforced," Robin responded after a short examination. "Armor plates."

"None of the other cars have them. That's their boss's car." I said, faintly gesturing towards Innocencio's mangled body.

Robin wasted no time. She ran over to the body and dug through its pockets, frantically checking for the key. Some of the black stuff splattered on her clothes, but she didn't care. Soon, she had the keys in her hands. 

She unlocked the doors and turned off the alarm, allowing Michael to shove me into the back seat before climbing in himself. Wayne tossed the bag after us, then got in shotgun, Robin taking the driver's seat a moment later.

She started the engine and stepped on the gas, but, before we set off, I was able to glance back at the horde behind us. The figure in the front had stopped, and so had the horde. I saw the figure shift slightly, its body sprouting... something, from every surface on its body. That something seemed to resemble red, glowing eyes. The sight was nauseating, and made worse by an unnerving feeling - the feeling that each one of those eyes was staring directly at me. 

But I didn't have much time to consider that, as we sped off. But we weren't the only ones picking up speed.

The horde started chasing us, the dog-like creatures leading the way, along with a few that seemed to resemble the one that had come out of Martinez. 

"They're coming after us!" I shouted.

"This thing _is_ reinforced, but if they latch onto us, we'll be in trouble. I might be able to lose them once we get into the industrial district. You fellas think you can keep them off our backs for that long?" Robin asked, flooring it.

"We can certainly try, I guess," Michael answered. Both he and Dick rolled down their windows, Michael seated on the left and Dick on the right, allowing them to cover both sides. I couldn't be of much help, as I felt I could barely lift a gun as I was now. I had to give him credit, Gacko was still doing his best, and I could sense some of my wounds _slowly_ closing, but I was still in awful shape.

Dick pulled out his revolver and peeked out from the window, while Michael leaned out with his rifle. Glancing back, I saw that the fastest of the creatures were trailing about two dozen feet behind us. The majority of the horde had fallen behind, but it seemed that five of the dog-like ones and four of the humanoid ones were intent on stopping our car. I wondered if there was a reason these things chose to chase us, though I soon cast any such thoughts aside - I had seen a lot of parked and crashed cars along the way, too. 

Michael opened fire first, sending three rounds towards the creature closest to him. This one was actually missing one of its arms, and lacked a mouth, just like the one from Martinez. The first two shots struck it in the chest, doing very little, but the third struck its leg. As a result, the thing collapsed and was left behind by the others. 

Dick, meanwhile, took care of two of the dog ones which had come dangerously close to pouncing on the car. Three shots, two direct hits. These particular creatures somehow seemed... defective. Fragile. The one I had fought in the school basement was killed by a single stab, while the other creatures we had fought would tank several shots before going down.

Robin swerved to avoid a car, and I had to grab hold of he back of Michael's jacket so he wouldn't fall out. I winced as it aggrevated some of my wounds.

"Could you be a little more careful?" He shouted towards Robin.

"I could, and all of us could be a little more dead!" she responded just as loudly.

"I'll pass!" Dick joined the yelling and took two more shots, both hitting another humanoid with what appeared to be three horns sticking out of the top of its head. The bullets struck the creature in its mouth and eye, its head essentially blowing apart after the second shot. Dick fired his last bullet, then pulled back into the car.

While Michael opened fire on the other beasts, taking several of them down, Dick turned to me. "Hank, ammo! In the bag, should be some speedloaders at the top!"

I nodded and opened the duffel bag, digging through it. There was plenty of ammo, sure, but the bottom was still lined with cash. I scoffed as I tossed the requested speedloader to Dick. "Seriously? You brought the cash?"

"Fuck off, Hank, it's the most I've owned my entire fuckin' life. I ain't leavin' that shit behind for nothin'!" he said as he loaded the bullets into his revolver and spun the cylinder, before going back to leaning out of the window. 

I looked back again to see that we had gotten rid of most of our persuers. A few stragglers in the form of the dog creatures remained, but Dick and Michael quickly dispatched of them. The horde was almost out of sight as we neared the industrial district. 

"Alright, if you head for 9th street, we should be in the clear. Once we get to the other side of the district, it's a short ride to the highway," I said, leaning towards the driver seat slightly. 

"Got it," Robin said with a nod, keeping her eyes on the road. 

Meanwhile Michael reloaded his gun, then took off his jacket. I glanced over to see that his shoulder was still bleeding. "Jesus, we need to bandage that up!" I said.

"Yeah, no shit, Hank," he said, then glanced back to grab the medkit resting behind the seat. 

I rubbed my face,  my body still aching. For a moment, I almost felt hopeful. We had outrun the horde, we had made it out alive... I believed my parents would have been fine, too, since they would have had little trouble fleeing town. When I had left, it seemed like that massive monster army wasn't around yet, and it shouldn't have been any trouble for my parents to get to the highway from the residential area. 

But there was something I learned that night. A harsh, painful lesson that I would force myself to never forget.

Even if things are looking up, it takes just one coincidence to fuck everything up.

 

 

 


	17. Coincidence

Mayor Backston was sitting in his office, holding in his hand a syringe which held a sample of the black liquid which The Crows had provided him with. Backston's hands were shaking slightly and he quickly set the syringe down in order to produce a cigarette and lighter from his pockets. 

His guards should be prepared. They had the ammo, and he had upped his security just for tonight. He didn't know exactly what the Crows were planning, but he knew that he should not show his face outside tonight. Granted, the Crows did offer him the chance to stay at their headquarters, but the man questioned how much he could _really_ trust them. The only reason their organization could flourish in Jonestown was that Backston allowed them to, but they were still scum. Scum who would do anything for power.

Though, as he thought of this, lighting his cigarette, the mayor chuckled to himself. Was he any different? For what it was worth, he had sold his entire town to these bastards, just so he himself could live the good life. Backston had money, admirers, all the alcohol, drugs and guns he could ever want - and, yet, there were nights he wondered if it was all worth it. He was undoubtedly going down in history as one of the bad guys. That was, if history would remember him at all.

He pocketed his lighter as the lights flickered, his mansion switching to generator power. It had begun. Whatever the Crows were doing, they said that it would start with them cutting off power. And, as a part of this plan, Backston himself would be cut off from any contact with what little police force still existed in Jonestown, as well as emergency services. That wasn't to say the Crows didn't trust him, they said - it was just a precaution.

Backston chuckled again, standing up and heading for the window. He pulled the curtains aside to take look out onto the city. It was almost completely dark. Backston was almost impressed with how efficiently the Crows could essentially take over the entire town for a night. They had this place, himself included, by the balls. 

The intercom on his desk crackled on. "Sir, we have our snipers ready on the roof. Confirming shoot-on-sight for trespassers?" One of his men asked.

Backston walked over to the intercom, leaned close to it and pressed the button located on the right side of it. "Yes. Shoot anyone and anything that tries to enter my property until I order otherwise."

Yes, he was definitely the bad guy in all of this. Many would call him a coward, and he could hardly argue. He had told the Crows that they would be shot if they tried getting near his mansion, too. His men were loyal to him, and only him - if this truly was a Red Crow takeover, he wouldn't just lay down and take it. He would fight for his town.

Or, rather, he'd fight for his own rule over the town.

Backston put his cigarette out on the ivory ashtray on his desk, then glanced once more at the syringe. The Red Crows refused to reveal where they had gotten this stuff from, but they touted it as a miracle drug, capable of healing massive wound, regenerating flesh, increasing strength and alleviating pain better than any opiate out there. 

He had been skeptical at first. That was before he saw a man get shot five times in the chest, yet stand and laugh it off. Laugh... a lot, actually. The substance apparently also did something to the brain - at least, it did something to it if the person was injured, or simply unprepared for its effects. They mentioned there being other side effects, saying that overdose for this stuff beat the hell out of overdosing on heroin. Again, they refused to explain or demonstrate it.

As he considered the substance's applications, he heard a gunshot from the roof. Then another. Then several more. The intercom came to life once more. "Sir, we're under attack! Shit- they're fast!" the voice said, accompanied by the sound of gunfire, as well as an odd screeching noise.

Backston pressed the button on the intercom again. "What? Who's attacking us?"

"I don't know! These things aren't human! We've killed a dozen of them, but there are... There's so many of them!" He responded. The mayor could her panic in his voice. This was not a good sign - his men were mostly ex-military, many of them former special forces members. To hear fear in any of their voices meant that they were in deep shit.

"Just keep the first floor on lockdown and pick them off! Are these things armed?" He asked.

"N-no, sir, but... Jesus, they're climbing the walls!" The man paused, more gunfire being heard from both the intercom and the roof. "Sir, the roof has been compromised! We'll hold them off, but you need to get somepla-" the intercom cut off abruptly. For a moment, Backston felt like he could hear the same man scream somewhere above him. He shuddered.

Not human? Climbing the walls? What the fuck had the Red Crows done out there?

Backston's mind immediately went back to the substance in the syringe. Could it be that they were dealing with drugged up Crows? Could this be some sort of 'coup'? If so, then why did the Crows warn him to begin with?

His thoughts were disturbed by a thud coming from the window, accompanied by the sound of the glass cracking. Backston yelped, turning his head towards the noise, stumbling back as the glass shattered, making the sounds of screeching, screaming and gunfire outside that much clearer. The curtains were torn off their rods, a black creature with an exposed skull tangled in it. 

Backston screamed, falling backwards at the sight. The beast continued screetching, flailing its body around in an attempt to untangle itself. From behind himself, Backston heard even more screetching, though muffled as the sound was coming from behind the door. The sound was followed by something heavy banging against the door repeatedly. 

He had no way to escape.

Backston scurried up on his feet. He had to think - he had a gun intended for self-defense, an MP7 under his desk. And yet, with every movement it made, the beast got closer to getting itself free. If Backston tried to grab the gun, he could expect himself to get torn to shreds. The monster appeared to have a nasty bite, as well as frighteningly sharp claws. He didn't want to risk it.

And so, he made a choice in that very moment. 

He grabbed the syringe from the desk and stabbed it into his arm.

He screamed and dropped to his knees at first, clutching the limb. He was shaking, his entire body in agony, but he clenched his teeth and forced himself to stand up. A few moments later, the pain was gone, and there was a grin on the man's face. 

The beast finally freed itself and pounced over the desk, sending the intercom and the desk lamp next to it flying, but Backston was able to sidestep and avoid the beast's lunge. He grabbed the ashtray as the beast charged again, and, as it attacked again, he slammed it into the side of the thing's skull. The tray shattered, but the creature fell down on its back, a crack in its exposed skull. 

The Mayor used this as a chance to dig under his desk and produce his gun. The monster lunged again, but Backston hit it once more, this time with his weapon. Two bullets was all it took to take the thing down.

Backston was panting, but he wasn't tired. He was just _pissed_. 

Someone was going to pay for all of this. That fucking ashtray had been _expensive_ ,  you know?

 

Just moments ago, one of Backston's men reported that they had lost the roof for good, the remainder of the men currently trying to seal off all roof access. And now, the creatures were pouring into the first floor, having knocked down the front doors - and the second floor was in no better shape as the things started to crash in through the windows.

All that remained in the first floor were Half a dozen men, the rest having already been killed. The creatures were closing in, now. It almost seemed like they were purposefully playing with their food, as they could just as easily kill all of them in a second.

"Screw Backston! We need to fall back and get the hell out of here!" yelled one of them. Moments later, however, he was shot in the back of the head, making some of the men turn their weapons towards the stairs. To their surprise, Backston himself was standing there, a devilish grin on his face.

"You ain't going nowhere until this place is clear of every single one of these fuckers!" He yelled, opening fire on the creatures behind his men, going down the line, killing several of them. 

This seemed to finally agitate the beasts a little too much, as they snapped and charged, every single one of them screeching. Backston continued firing as his men were torn to pieces, stopping only to load a new magazine into his gun. One of his men tried to run back, towards his boss, but was pounced on by a beasts with two pairs of arms. The man screamed as his head was forcefully torn off his body, blood gushing on the stairs and splattering on Backston's face.

"Guess it's all up to me now, huh?" he muttered, before dashing down and slamming the barrel in the monster's mouthless face. A single shot was all it took from this range, sending the beast's body flying back down the stairs. 

After picking up some speed, Backston jumped, leaping over the monster army below him while continuing to unload on them. He tossed the weapon away as he landed and grabbed one of the rifles laying next to the body of one of his men. The gun had ten more shots in it, which resulted in ten more kills. 

Never before in his life had the mayor felt this alive. As it were, he didn't give a single shit about all his men, or how these creatures came to be, or what they even were. For now, all he wanted to do was kill. 

He threw the rifle away as well and grabbed a handgun from the same dead body. Seven shots, four kills, three of those shots striking a dead body that one of the monsters had impaled on a spike protruding from its shoulder. 

The entire monster force stopped. The creature threw the body away just as Backston got rid of his now empty gun. While Backston grabbed for another rifle, said creature was the only one to continue advancing. It had several of those spiked appendages growing out of it. They seemeed to have ball joints in three different locations each, and, unlike the rest of the creature's body, they were blood red and resembled exposed muscle more than anything.

And yet, again, all that Backston cared for was killing. He grabbed the rifle and opened fire again. Most of the shots hit the monster directly, though a few of them flew past it and managed to kill two more of the creatures behind it. 

And still, the bullets seemed to do nothing. The monster's body seemed to simply absorb them, the holes disappearing behind its flowing flesh. Backston groaned and charged the thing head-on, swinging his gun at it. He could almost hear a faint, distorted laughter as the gun was pulled into the monster's flesh, followed by a large, red eye appearing where the gun had gone missing.

The mayor took a step back, just as the monster's entire body shifted, eyes appearing on its entire surface. And, just like that, Backston was afraid again. God, was he afraid. It felt like all of his insides had twisted and turned - he felt fear and regret for letting his men die, and for thinking he could do anything alone. He was just one man, and barely that. He was a coward. 

He then screamed in pain and dropped to his knees yet again, clutching the arm in which he had injected the substance. It was twitching, the skin around the spot where he had made the injection starting to turn black. He looked up to see the creature had stopped. It was doing this to him. Playing with him, just like the monsters had toyed with his men.

Backston was a coward, but at times, cowardice is just what it takes. He screamed and pulled himself back up on his feet, then ran, ran as fast as he could. He had to make it to the garage, get in his car, he could still drive away! 

The Red Crows! If he made it to their hideout, he would be safe! They would know what to do. So he thought, as he rushed into his garage and hopped into his car, a 2005 Ferrari convertible. Some of his own men had snickered at it, saying it's the face of a middle age crisis. But, if it would get him out of this mess today, the whole lot of them could rot in hell.

He started the car, and inhaled sharply as he saw the state his arm was in. It was not in pain anymore, but it was definitely in bad shape. It seemed barely functional, and with each movement, bits of blackened flesh would peel off. And, the worst part - the apparent necrosis was creeping up his arm, past his elbow by now.

He had to stop it somehow. Before driving off, Backston grabbed at his belt and pulled it out, then slapped it around his upper arm, beyond where the necrosis had spread to. He tightened it as much as he could using his teeth, to the point where his arm went numb under the leather, turning blue. He didn't care. 

He opened the garage to find himself face to face with the monsters again. But he wasn't going to stop now. He stepped on the gas and charged the car through them, smashing into several and throwing them around like bowling pins. One, however, managed to grab onto one of the back seats, getting dragged along. 

Backston started swerving from side to side as he got onto the road, trying to get the creature to fall off, but to little effect. After he had been driving for a little longer, the beast screeched, having managed to get a leg into the car. 

Backston needed to get the thing away, and fast. He skidded into a corner, driving into the industrial district. Maybe he could get rid of it in one of the sharper turns, or slam into a wall...

But, a solution came to him on its own, albeit a bit harsh. As he turned one of the many narrow corners, he found himself in the way of a speeding, armored SUV. 

While the creature was knocked off, not much his car survived, either. 

 

 

 


	18. Sacrifice

This had been the second crash I had gone through that night. The moment of impact, I had my head slammed against the front seat, and was knocked to the ground, bleeding even worse than before. What followed was the sound of glass shattering and metal twisting, the car spinning out of control, before slamming sideways into a wall.

Slowly, I regained consciousness of my surroundings and looked around, my eyes taking a while to focus. Michael looked to still be alright, groaning as he straightened out his back. From the sound of it, the two at the front were still alive, too. Thank God.

"Jesus Christ..." Dick muttered, coughing. "Everyone alright?"

"No worse than I already was," I responded, pulling myself back up on the seat. I looked out the window to see the other car completely totaled. Whoever had been driving it would not have survived that. Somehow, I didn't care.

Dick rubbed his forehead and checked his hand to see a whole lot of blood. He groaned. "We need to get moving."

"Car's fucked. We're on foot," said Robin, rolling her shoulder, wincing.

"Then we have no time to waste," said Michael as he opened the door and climbed out. The others got out of the car as well, though Michael had to get the bag out before I could join them - the door on my side had actually bent inwards, and was currently pressed against the wall.

Michael and Robin helped pull me out, while Dick grabbed the bag. 

"Alright," Dick said, stuffing his revolver into the bag and instead grabbing the shotgun from the back. "We're on foot, but we can still make it to the highway. We might be able to hitchhike a ride there." 

"Right. Where are we right now?" I asked, bleary-eyed.

"Check where we crashed, genius," responded Michael. I had to stare at the building for a second or two, but then I figured it out. 

It was our god-damn warehouse. 

"Oh, shit, That's perfect. We're not far from 9th street, so..." 

I was unable to finish, and my lips trembled as we heard it again. The screeching. I knew that would hear that screeching in my nightmares for months to come. That was, if I were to survive.

It didn't take long for us to see them. They were encroaching upon us from every angle, as if they had been expecting us to crash here, as if they had prepared an ambush just for us. The horde from before was still nearing us from behind, and another, albeit smaller group was closing in from the front. The alleyways appaered to be littered with the creatures, and the road which the car had emerged from was full of the dog-like beasts. The fuckers had even climbed the rooftops. 

They had us surrounded.

Dick snarled, and threw his bag our direction, a surprised Robin catching it in her free arm and clutching it to her chest. "What the fuck!?"

"All of you, go! You can go through the warehouse and leave out the back!" He yelled out, pumping his shotgun. "And don't you dare lose a fuckin' dollar from that bag! I'll be comin' back for that cash!"

I wanted to stop him. To tell him that it was stupid, that he would die and there was no point to him staying here. And yet... I knew he wouldn't listen. Not once since I met the guy had he listened to me. He'd always tease and mock me, he was loud and obnoxious, with abhorrent manners and zero tact. He wouldn't give a shit about anything I would say.

"Hold out, Dick." I told him, as Michael and Robin started to lead me towards the side entrance.

"Couldn't let you and Wayne have all the glory tonight," the man said, and, as we stepped through the door, I thought I could hear him laugh past the horrible screeching.

 

There had been a time when Dick believed in survival of the fittest. Having grown up on the streets, he had been face-to-face with death many times. He had killed, and he had seen his comrades die. And yet, when you encounter the dead and the dying so much, you start to question it. 

'Survival of the fittest' implied that whoever would fall behind and die, well... They deserved it. It implied that their deaths were merely a stepping stone for those around them, no more than prey or a sacrificial lamb. And, at this point, Dick was done with it. It was just a load of bullshit to him.

It was never 'survival of the fittest', and evolution could suck his cock for all he cared. It was survival of the lucky ones. Never had Dick met someone who deserved to live as much as Wayne did - shit, out of their group, he was the smartest and strongest, there was no question about it. And yet, Dick had lived longer than Wayne. 

The bald man grinned as the monsters charged at him. If it was truly just dumb luck that determined who would survive tonight, then he had been fucked right from the start. Dick was shitty luck incarnate, so why not at least go out in a blaze of glory?

The first monster to pounce at him got a shotgun slug to its eyeless face, launching it back several feet, dead. The next one met a similar fate, having lunged at him from the side, only for Dick to crack its skull from one swing with the shotgun.

By now, the hordes were just down the street, and the monsters from the different alleyways had all gathered around the warehouse. Slug after slug killed monster after monster, until eventually Dick found himself having to reload. He had filled his pockets with shells beforehand, but, as he was loading his gun, he heard a scratching sound from behind himself, followed by a screech much closer to him than he would be comfortable with. 

He swiftly turned around, and as he did, he felt a sharp pain in his right side, as one of the creatures had landed behind him from the roof, and embedded its jaws in his flesh. Blood sputtered from Dick's mouth as he yelled in pain and anger, smashing the butt of his gun into the thing's skull. Two solid hits left the thing on the ground, but with his new wound, Dick wouldn't survive long anyway.

He kept backing up further and further into the alley, having to load a single shell and fire to keep the creature's at bay, until he felt himself back into the fence behind him. His limbs barely functioned by now, and his legs were giving in. Slowly, his back slid down the fence, leaving a massive trail of blood behind it. 

"Well, Wayne... Guess you'll get to welcome me in hell sooner, rather than later," he muttered, moments before several more creatures pounced at him.

 

The three of us stepped into the warehouse, Michael shutting the door behind us. Inside, it was even darker than out where the moon could at least illuminate the surrounding area. Here, we had to just stick to the wall and hope we don't step on a piece of rebar sticking our from the ground or something. 

"I-I think I can walk on my own now," I said.

"You should be able to, yes," Gacko confirmed. "What now, though?"

Michael and Robin stopped supporting me, and I continued along, although a bit shakily. It would at least let the two use their weapons, Michael still holding his rifle, too. 

"If we head through the back here, we might be able to avoid the horde. Not many of the alleys back there actually connect to each other. Lots of fenced off, private property. There's another warehouse on the other side, too, similar to this one. It's still operational, but the side entrance is usually left open, as is the back. Once we're through, there's a road that leads toward the highway, comes out right next to that forest. We can..." 

As we approached the back door, I stopped and screamed. I felt pain again, but once more it was only in my arm. Michael groaned, going through the same, clutching his wrist. 

"Damn it... We need to hurry!" Robin uttered, and we knew she was right. We didn't have time to mope around - it's what Dick had told us himself. Michael swung the door open and rushed out, towards the warehouse on the other side, Robin and I following along as well. The streets were clear, as it were. The monsters appeared to have not gone through here yet, as there weren't even any crashed or abandoned cars around. For once, that was a good sign.

But, as we headed for the side door, I felt a most unnerving feeling. You know those tingles in the back of your neck when it feels like someone is watching you? It was like that, but as if there were actual needles, stabbing my back. I glanced behind us, and spotted the thing, standing on the roof of our warehouse. It was the same one I had seen leading the horde before.

"...RUN!" I exclaimed, shoving the two through the door just as the monsters started pouring over the buildings, towards us.

 

 

 


	19. Holdout

After we got in, Michael slammed the door shut behind us, sliding a nearby pipe through the handle. It wouldn't hold the creatures for long, but it would be something.

But it wouldn't help, as I immediately noticed a much bigger problem.

Skylights. There were eight of them total, two rows of four, some of them already broken. With what I just saw the creatures do, climbing up and jumping down would be no problem for them. Shit.

"We need to get out! This place is a death trap!" Gacko exclaimed as we started hauling ass towards the back entrance. We stopped, however, at the sound of a gunshot and a bullet striking just a few feet ahead of us. Instinctively, Robin forced both of us down, taking cover behind a couple of large metal containers nearby.

"Get out here and put your hands up, now!" shouted a voice from somewhere above. Robin peeked around the box, then pulled her head back. 

"Fuckers! There's  stairs on the other side of the room, lead up to some control room, or office, or something. I saw about a dozen guys over there. 

"What the fuck do we do?" Michael asked.

"If they're Crows, we're as good as dead if we surrender. If we wait..." I said, but stopped and looked up, as did the others. The skylights shattered, and they started raining down. As they threw themselves down, screeching, many hit the ground and died, but this only served to cushion the others' falls. 

"What the fuck!?" We heard the same voice before yell, followed by the men opening fire upon them.

"This is our chance!" Gacko said. "Move it!"

And so, we made a mad dash for the back door. From behind us, we heard the door we had come in from go down with a loud crash, the beasts now streaming in from there, too. 

"Go! Go! Go!" Michael shouted, firing a burst into a creature which had picked us for its target. This seemed to attract the attention of some of the beasts which had only just now dropped down. 

"Fuckin' hell! STOP THEM!" the man on the stairs yelled, and opened fire in our direction, forcing us to stick to cover. And yet, we were so close to the door, one more dash and we would be out...

But then it happened. In a single moment, all of our hopes shattered into pieces, as the door we were running towards came crashing down as well. And, behind it... We could barely make out what it was, as it seemed to just be one big mass of blackness covered in acid. It was too large to get in through the door, but it was definitely trying. 

"Motherfucker!" Michael called out in anger, opening fire on the mass, though it seemed to have no effect. "Every fucking time! Every fucking time it seems we might make it, some fucking bullshit gets in the way! I'm tired of it!" 

"Michael, calm down!" Robin yelled at him, firing her revolver past him to strike down a beast currently trying to sneak up on us from on top of a box. The monster released one final screech before collapsing on the floor below. 

"Hey! Fuckfaces!" He continued yelling, now aimed at the people who currently had us pinned. "How about you fucking deal with these monsters first, and _THEN_ decide if it's worth killing our asses!?"

To an extent, this seemed to work, as the men clearly concentrated their fire on the beasts again. At the same time, however, this might have had more to do with the fact that the monsters were now swarming them. Some of them had already been killed by creatures that had managed to sneak up on them by climbing the walls.

"Shit, we're way too much in the open here!" Robin grunted out between firing. As she reloaded, Michael stepped in, letting out controlled bursts. 

She was right. Even if they kept this up, it was clear that the creatures were getting closer and closer to us with each passing moment. We needed to get to better cover than this.

"...That place where those guys are holding out seems pretty alright, doesn't it?" I said, before digging through the duffelbag left for us by Dick and producing his revolver. I had never fired one before, and even when Dick did so himself, you could have seen it knock his hand back. But I had to make do. 

"Fucking hell, Hank, not all of us are as fuckin' suicidal as you are!" Michael responded as he reloaded and was switched out by Robin. 

"Have any better ideas?" I asked, checking to make sure the gun in my hand was still loaded.

"No, but that doesn't mean I'm happy about it!" He said, slapping the magazine into his gun. 

"Think you can keep up with us, Hank?" Robin asked.

"With an army of monsters on my tail? Definitely."

"Alright, in that case... We go on three!" She called out as she finished her own reload and chambered the first round. "One, two, three! Haul ass!" She ordered us, vaulting over one of the smaller crates. Michael did the same while I ran around it. 

There weren't as many beasts falling in from the ceiling now: only occasionally did one of the creatures drop down. We just had to hope that none of them dropped _on_ us. We still had to run past the lot of them, though most of the creatures seemed to be preoccupied with the men still raining bullets on the from above.

I was lagging behind the others. Not by much, but I was. There was enough space between us, actually, for a pair of these monstrosities to block my path and separate me from the others. With the creatures closing in from behind, too, I had no time to stop. I raised my revolver and fired, the recoil nearly knocking the gun out from my hands at first. The bullet struck the creature in its chest, which did little more than make it stumble back ever so slightly. Shit.

"Hank! Sidestep left and put its arm in a lock with your elbow!" Gacko said. I smirked to myself, knowing exactly what he was going for.

As I got close to the thing, I did just that. I stepped forward with my left leg and put the creature's arm in a lock with my elbow. I then slammed my right leg into the back of the thing's knee, simultaneously forcing it down with my own weight. Neither of the monsters could react fast enough, as I was up on my feet right away and continued running. Doing all that had agitated my wounds a little, giving me a slight limp, but I was able to keep going. That was the important part.

As we got closer to the stairs, it got generally easier to get past the monsters. Well, that was a case until a certain point, at least. Michael and Robin had already made it up the stairs, but the entire horde was on my ass now, and the men on the stairs couldn't take them all down. They could barely get half of the creatures currently chasing after me. 

I made it to the stairs, but the beasts were coming right after me. At this point, however, I had noticed that most of the men had retreated into the office, Robin and Michael having gone with them, apparently. There was only one man standing on the stairs, with some sort of large canister on his back and some sort of large hose in his hands.

Oh dear lord.

"Get th' 'ell down less you wanna find ou' what's it like bein' barbecue!" He roared out with a strong Southern accent. I put two and two together, and dropped down on the stairs, covering my head. 

I felt the air above me heat up and heard the fire roar just over my head, the flames singing my back as the man sprayed them over the horde behind me. Slowly, I crawled up as he continued firing, trying to ignore the incredible amounts of pain my back was in. I made it past him before I could at least get up on my knees and pull myself up the rest of the stairs, into the office, where Robin and Michael proceeded to drag me further into the back.

The man who had been yelling earlier was standing over me, a cigar in his mouth. He was a middle-aged, well-tanned man with thick sideburns and moustache, as well as a thick head of hair. He was dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts, and looked a whole lot less threatening up close.

"You three got some big fuckin' balls, I'll tell you that much. You break into our warehouse, bring these fuckin' monsters 'ere, and then you run through a fuckin' horde just to fuckin' get to us?" He asked, then pointed towards me with his cigar in his hand. "Balls."

"Thanks, I've... Actually been getting that a lot lately. A bit weird, really," I responded.

"These things are weak to fire. Don't know much else about them, but I do know that some other branch o' the Crows made 'em. Fuck 'em. Hope these things ate their asses," he continued "but they ain't havin' mine. Yo, Cuz, get back before those fuckers swarm you! If we use the door as a chokepoint, they can't do shit!" 

By now, the other men, five in total, had taken positions by every window overlooking the rest of the warehouse, and resumed firing on the creatures. 'Cuz' the flamethrower man started backing up until he was standing just in front of the doorway. I slowly got up, using the desk I had sat down to stabilize myself, Michael and Robin, despite being tired as all hell, having joined the men in defending the office. As I watched the monsters try and attack Cuz, only to be struck by the flames and sent back screaming, I realized that any apparent intelligence these things had was an illusion. They acted entirely on instinct, one which told them to kill. And, yet, somehow, that felt... wrong. If that were the case, I doubted they would have done as much damage as they did. That... eye creature. That thing was responsible, it was controlling them. 

I was about to grab a gun and join them, but my attention was drawn away as Cuz stopped firing. I wondered if he ran out of fuel for just a moment, before I saw that his entire body had twitched, and now lifted up above the ground by a foot or so. Blood started pouring down from his body. I looked up to see a massive spike, poking through the back of his head. In a moment's notice, his body was pulled up onto the roof of the office, leaving the door open. 

"Shit! Flamer's down!" I screamead, but it was too little too late. One of the monsters rushed in and started swinging its massive claws around, slicing open the backs of two clueless gunmen. One other turned to face the beast, and fired. The man in the aloha shirt joined him in this, killing it, but the guy who had turned away from the window would soon regret it, as he suffered a fate similar to Cuz. The same spike had entered through the window and stabbed him through the brain, one of his eyes popping out from his skull. The spike then retracted, slamming the now limp body against the wall. The man next to him screamed, and both Michael and Robin were quick to get away from the windows and concentrate on the door.

The leader of the crows, meanwhile, uttered some Spanish curse and aimed his gun at the ceiling. He started to open fire, leaving multiple bullet holes in the metal above us, but we had no idea to tell if he had hit. 

That was, until we heard a suspicious clang from above us, followed by the sound of an explosion and roaring flames, the entire office shaking. The room seemed to heat up by several degrees in that moment, and a single glance out from any of the windows showed why. The man had hit the fuel tank that Cuz was carrying, which sent the burning substance flying, and some of it had even fallen down onto the crates below. 

Flammable crates, filled with ammo and medical supplies held by the Crows.

In just a few minutes, the entire warehouse turned into a flaming inferno. 

 

 


	20. Fire and Brimstone

"Well, so much for holding the fuck out!" the man yelled out as the flames began to spread throughout the building, accompanied by explosions from several of the crates. "All of you, hold them off at the entrance!"

Michael and Robin were already on it and were joined by the two remaining gunmen. Every one of them looked terrified.

The nameless man, as I had opted to refer to him, hurried to the desk and pulled one of the drawers open. Since I was standing right next to it, I was able to look inside.

It was full of syringes, each one containing the black substance. "What the shit?" I uttered.

The man glanced up at me. "This stuff was made by the same bastards that made those things out there, apparently. If you take too much of it, you turn into one of them. If you take the right amount, however..."

As he reached for a syringe, the window in front of him shattered, another spiked appendage lurching in. He could barely react in time to pull back, but the spike still struck him in the shoulder. He groaned and tried to pull it out, but it was firmly stuck. It was almost as if it had expanded in his body so that it couldn't be removed. The appendage tried retreating out the window, slamming him against the frame.

"Fucking- Help me!" He screamed out, trying to kick and fight so that his body wouldn't be crushed.

"Hank! Your dagger!" Gacko reminded me. I quickly unsheathed it, but I couldn't get a clear hit. The man and the appendage were thrashing around too much.

"Damn it! Try and hold steady for just a moment!" I called out, bringing Robin's attention to the situation. The others were currently busy blasting away any monster that tried to get through the door, almost a dozen of them already piled up on the staircase, most having fallen down into the raging fire. 

Robin wasted no time and tossed her gun aside. She grabbed the man by the shoulders and pulled back while he planted his feet on either side of the frame to keep himself steady. This left a good chunk of the creature's appendage exposed, though it was clearly struggling to free itself now.

I stabbed at it with the dagger, clipping its side and leaving a large cut in its flesh. At this point the spike seemed to shrink back down to its original size, or hell, even smaller, and loosened itself from the man's shoulder. As it was pulling back however, he grabbed hold of it, struggling to keep his grip. "Not so fucking fast! Chop that bitch off, kid!"

I did just that. Two more stabs at the same spot where I had hit it before and the limb was severed off completely, Robin and the man falling back onto the ground, panting. He tossed the spiked appendage to the side and hurried back to the desk, his shoulder bleeding badly. 

Before I could offer help, he grabbed a syringe and stabbed it into his arm, injecting about half of the substance into his veins. He gritted his teeth, shivering, then threw the syringe down. A few moments later, the hole in in his shoulder started to close on its own, filling in the same way we had seen the hole in Martinez' stomach close up. 

"I suggest you grab one o' them as well. If you overdose, shoot yourself before we have to deal with your shit," he said, grinning like a maniac. Nameless then walked over to his men, patted them on the shoulder, then grabbed one of the rifles in their hands and ran past them, right into the group of monsters still at the door. "Run!" He screamed back before tackling one of the beasts to the ground. He stomped on its neck, raised his rifle and opened fire, blasting away several more of them.

The others didn't have to be told twice, as they joined Nameless in fighting to get out. I was about to follow them, but Gacko stopped me. "Wait! Hank, grab one of those syringes."

"Wait, but-"

"I know, it's _bad_ , but, well. You might need it if I can't heal you," he explained. I hesitated for a moment, but grabbed a syringe and tossed it into my pocket. I also grabbed the duffel bag which Robin had left on the ground and sheathed by blade, then ran out with the others.

Most of the building had caught fire and the heat was unbearable. With the smoke rising up, there was little question that we needed to hurry our asses down as soon as possible. 

"Good news is, these things are in an even worse situation than we are," Michael commented as we began to make our descent. "They don't even know to avoid the flames."

I looked around for a brief moment and saw that he was right. The creatures were still pouring in by the dozen, but most just ran into the fires and died. Problem was, their corpses helped the fire spread, as the black liquid appeared to be flamable. Luckily for us, there were still open paths between the burning crates here and there, though the fire had reached the roof by now. It wouldn't be long until the whole thing caved in. 

We weren't going to wait around for that to happen. The six of us started running for the back entrance. From the looks of it, the massive monster had left as the fire had broken out. As we ran, I tossed a look back, and saw that the inside of the office was now on fire as well, and that whatever had been standing on the roof of it was long gone, a trail of black ooze leading up the wall to one of the skylights. 

The warehouse was mostly clear, but not completely. A few of the monsters were still around, and had apparently decided to get in our way. Five in total, three of them the dog beasts, but one of the taller ones was... different. It was covered in the same flowing substance as the dog ones, with none of the blackened flesh in sight. Matter of fact, I couldn't make out any features on the thing: it was like a shadow, burning in dark flames.

"Open fire!" Nameless commanded, and his two lackies responded immediately. One of them still with his rifle, the other having to rely on his sidearm. The dog ones were a joke to deal with, of course, and the regular one died rather swiftly as well. But the shadow one... Something was off about it.

It seemed to absorb the shots for a moment, even when all of us were opening fire on it - even I joined in with my colt. This thing... It unnerved me. Its existence felt even more wrong and disturbing than that of the other monsters. 

Then it happened.

The beast stretched its arms out to its sides and raised its shapeless head towards the sky. It then released an ear-shattering screech, at least three times as loud as the noises constantly emitted by the other monsters. All of us but Nameless had to cover our ears to not go deaf, and I would hear ringing for at least the next twenty minutes after this. But it wasn't just the sound that was troubling.

This thing had called every monster in the warehouse, or even further than that, to itself. 

The entire swarm now concentrated their efforts on charging at us, though most were still stopped by the flames. At this point Nameless had gotten properly pissed off, and charged the shadow thing, grappling with it before taking it down. "All of you, get your asses moving!" He roared out as he started to punch the shit out of the thing. With each hit, his arm blackened more, but the monster's form seemed to shift and become more unstable as well.

Michael, Robin and the rifle guy took the lead, rushing towards the exit, while the guy with the handgun hesitated, before going to grab his rifle, which Nameless had tossed aside. As he did, one of the dog beasts appeared.

By that I mean that this thing leapt through the flames to our left, sreeching and burning. It tackled the poor guy down, who screamed in terror and pain as the fire singed his skin.

I stopped and fired at the thing, hitting it twice in the head before he could push the thing off and scramble away. What distracted me then was the sound of something cracking and breaking above us. 

"Hank, above you!" Gacko warned me. In a single glance, I could tell that some of the support beams had caught fire, and were on the verge of collapse, right above Nameless.

"Look out!" I shouted and pulled the man off of the beast, just in time, too. A moment later, before the creature could collect itself, it was burried in burning wood beams. The creature was surely dead, but we had an even bigger problem: our path to exit, as well as the other three, was blocked.

"Shit! What now?" The other gunman asked, before turning around to fire at an approaching freak. I had to hand it to him - he was holding up quite well considering the burns which had already appared on his face and hands.

"There was another path around these crates! We'll be fine if we stick together! Let's move!" Nameless commanded, and the two of us simply followed. 

In that moment, I was not so certain that we really would be fine. In the last minute, we had lost most of our firepower, now left with just my colt and the gunman's sidearm. And, as badass as Nameless had presented himself to be, he was clearly hurt and tired. The blackness had reached up to his forearm, and only now did I realize what the case was there - as he was punching the creature, it was tearing his flesh off, piece by piece, which the black substance had now replaced with... That. Jesus.

We couldn't afford to stop. We had to keep running. I kept this in mind as we rounded the corner, just to find ourselves face-to-face with three of the tall ones. 

"They have us surrounded!" Gacko called out. For now, the other two didn't question who said it. I looked behind, and, sure enough, saw three more of the things after us.

Michael had been right. The universe always found a way to fuck with us. 

"Marco, take the one on the right! Kid, you take left! I'll take middle!" Nameless ordered. Marco slowed down to fire, but I knew I couldn't hit from this distance. So, I ran ahead along with Nameless. While he started whaling on his target, I shoved the barrel of my gun right in its gaping mouth and pulled the trigger. The beast's head snapped back, and it fell down, as did the other two targets. 

Marco, however, screamed. Both Nameless and I turned our heads to see that one of the creature's had stabbed him in the side of the stomach, making him cough up blood. Nameless screamed in anger and ran at the creatures before I could stop him. He shoved the one who had attacked Marco away from him, then pushed the guy, who had been disarmed, towards me.

"Get the hell out of here, now!" He screamead as he started throwing punches left and right. But no matter how well the substance in him functioned, he couldn't take three of them on his own. As Marco and I started running again, I heard him moan in pain, one of the creatures slicing the back of his leg open and making him fall to one knee. He still kept fighting, bending that same creature's knee backwards and elbowing another in the gut, but the second one slashed his shoulder where the other creature had already stabbed him. 

"Shit, Hank, to your left!" Gacko warned me yet again, but not quite in time. One of the dog beasts leapt at me and knocked me down, making me toss my gun. Its jaws came uncomfortably close to biting my face off before it was shot in the head. I looked to the side to see Marco, who had grabbed the gun I dropped.

"Keep going!" He forced out through his bloodied teeth, clutching at his side with his empty hand. The blood just kept pouring, though. He was in bad shape. 

I pulled out my dagger and kept going. We weaved around the burning rubble, until we were finally able to see Robin and Michael. The other goon was nowhere to be found.

And no wonder. Robin and Michael were surrounded from all sides, having to keep going from firing to reloading, to beating the things back in melee. They wouldn't hold long. And what made things worse, another swarm of around twenty beasts blocked our path to them. I couldn't make it through that with the shape I was in, and neither could Marco. For a moment, I felt hopeless, when Gacko spoke up.

"Hank. The syringe!" 

I didn't even stop to think. I didn't care what would happen to me - if I could save those two, then that was all that mattered. I pulled the syringe from my pocket and jabbed it into my arm.

In the spur of the moment, I injected all of its contents into myself. A decision I would come to regret.

 

 


	21. Breakdown

Everything went dark around me, and, for a moment, I felt nothing. A second later, It felt like my entire body had frozen over, unable to move, feeling like it could break apart at any given moment. And yet it wasn't painful. It was just... scary.

I tried to scream but not a noise came out as my muscles tensed up. The sound from the fires and fighting ahead, as well as the screeching, died out, leaving me in complete silence. Then, in the darkness, something appeared. It started to come closer to me, slowly, and, after a short while, I was able to make out what it was.

A single floating red eye, gazing at me, unblinking.  It didn't take a genius to figure out that it was one of that monstrosity's eyes. That monster really was the cause of all of this, and the liquid in that syringe...

"Hank! Hank!" I heard a muffled voice as the thing drew closer, but couldn't quite place it. I tried to shake my head, but I couldn't even do as much as blink or avert my gaze as my sight remained fixated on the approaching eye.

"Snap out of it! If you let that thing take over, I'm going to kick your ass from the inside!" the voice called again. It was Gacko. Fuck, of _course_ it was. 

Wait, 'take over'? God, I had injected too much of the stuff, and it seemed like Gacko was fighting to maintain control. I had to help him but I didn't know how. 

Then, something truly bizarre happened. For just a moment, the sounds from the warehouse came back. The fire, the crashing roof, the screeching of the monsters... And screaming. I could hear Robin shouting in rage and Michael screaming for help. Marco was also still nearby, yelling for me to get back up. 

I felt a warm breath leave my lungs, creating a puff of vapor in front of me, making the eye slow down. From the edges of my vision, I began to see light. No, it wasn't exactly light - it was more like... Whiteness, creeping into my sights the same way the darkness had consumed it before. 

The more it spread, the more alive I started to feel, my body now able to move again. The eye had completely stopped, right in front of my face. The whiteness continued to envelop it, until just the iris remained. I felt something try and reach towards me as the last of it disappeared, but I seemed to have gotten away from its vile grasp.

And found myself back in the warehouse, laying face-down on the ground, drooling. My arm was twitching, and I felt that I had fallen on the syringe, crushing it under my weight. But that was hardly important.

What was important was that I felt _alive_.

All of my wounds began to close rapidly, the substance and Gacko doing their work. I pushed myself off the ground, just as a massive claw embedded itself where my head had just been laying.

"Look out!" Marco called out from behind me, firing and hitting the creature in front of me in its repulsive face. It staggered and fell backwards while I regained my senses.

"Hank, if you're going to help them, hurry!" Gacko yelled out. I immediately looked ahead to see Michael and Robin still struggling to defend themselves. It seemed that Michael had been wounded in the side while Robin was clearly running on fumes. He wasn't kidding.

"Marco! Follow me and stick close!" I shouted out and unsheathed my dagger, weighing it in my hand. I still had the bag over my shoulder. That was going to be a problem, but, considering the roaring fires which surrounded us and the fact that Michael and Robin would undoubtedly be running low on ammo I couldn't afford to ditch it. I had to make do.

"Alright, Hank! Just like we've practiced!" Gacko said. I nodded before tightening the grip on the blade.

I started running, shifting most of the bag's weight to my left shoulder with the dagger in my right hand. Marco followed right after me, occasionally firing at some of the beasts who were still trying to get to us. One of the creatures up ahead turned to face me, opening its massive mouth and screaming at me.

"Sidestep left, slice its neck!" Gacko shouted out. I continued running as the beast took a swing at me, but I narrowly avoided the attack. In retaliation I jammed the dagger into its neck, yanking it to the side as I kept going. This left the thing's head hanging on a small strip of flesh, the beast itself falling a moment later. 

Its death seemed to attract the attention of more of the beasts. Around half a dozen of the ones surrounding Robin and Michael now decided to go for me and Marco. I came to a halt, groaning. Marco stopped behind me and opened fire on the group ahead, managing to hit two and killing one of them.

"Stay back!" I told him, looking between the remaining five for an opening. Behind them, Robin and Michael were nearly back-to-back, the horde relentlessly closing in on them. A dog beast pounced at Michael and knocked him down. As he held the beast away from his face with his rifle, Robin turned around and put a bullet in its skull. Doing so, however, left her open. One of the beasts jabbed its claw into her arm. She screamed and Michael unloaded into the creature. They had no time to recuperate, either. They had to keep fighting.

The first two of the five charged at me, one of them slightly injured by Marco's shots. I flipped the dagger in my hands, the blade now facing backwards, allowing me to slice more easily. Gacko picked up on my plan. 

"Crouch, now!" he commanded. I did so and lunged forward, the two monstrosities tripping up as their target disappeared from their vision. I sliced the creature on my right in the knee, almost cleanly taking it off, and stabbed the dagger into the back of the other's leg. Both of them fell down allowing Marco, who had reloaded by now, to put two more rounds into their head.

"Get back!" Gacko ordered as the rest were now upon me. I hopped up on my feet and jumped back, the first beast's claws nicking my stomach through my already shredded shirt.

"Sidestep left!" Gacko suggested. I did so using the weight of the bag on my shoulder to shift my entire body to the side, the second beast swinging and missing right where my shoulder had been a moment ago. I used the marginal amount of momentum I had gained from my move to jam the blade into the skull of the beast furthest to the left. This left my dagger stuck as the thing fell and I had to jump back again to avoid another attack.

Marco opened fire once more, sufficiently distracting one of the beasts, though neither seemed too harmed by it. Gacko guided me as I had to duck to avoid another strike, then move to my side once more. I felt a lot quicker than I had been before. Whatever was in that syringe had worked. 

I elbowed the creature in its jaw, but it had little effect and neither did my follow-up punch. It simply screeched, then tried to bite me in the arm, gnashing its rotten teeth with its bulging eyes staring me down. Even if I felt tougher, I couldn't hit it hard enough with just my bare fists. 

So, I figured I could do more with my legs than I could with my arms. 

I crouched low under its next attack, and called for Gacko to help me pull off the move. I spun my body around, keeping one leg stretched out, and slammed it into the creature's own legs. Unable to keep its balance, the monster fell down. I was up on my feet before it could get its bearing, and slammed my foot into its skull. It was still alive after the first time, but the third time did it.

I scrambled to pull the dagger out from the other dead monster's skull but as I pulled it out, I heard a call from help from behind me. I turned my head to see that Marco had managed to kill the monster that had charged at him, but was now being surrounded by three others, one of them a dog beast just about ready to pounce. 

The path to Michael and Robin was almost clear now. A few of them still blocked my way, but they weren't facing me as they were the ones surrounding the two. And yet, between their shoulders I saw Robin look at me. She seemed as full of much determination as she was full of rage, now fighting with only one arm. If I were to go there now leaving Marco behind, I felt like it would all have been for nothing, like saving the two... wouldn't even matter.

The monsters were closing in on both of them. Michael was too occupied with a pair to notice two more go after Robin. Marco had just run out of bullets and threw his gun at the dog beast in panic. I had to make a choice. I knew I would regret my decision either way. I simply didn't have the time.

I roared out and ran back towards Marco. The dog beast pounced just before I made it there, its massive jaws biting into his leg. The poor guy screamed in pain, kicking at it with his other leg, desparetely trying to get it off. Before the other two could attack, however, I jammed the dagger through the back of one's head and bodyslammed the other, knocking it to the ground. While it continued thrashing under me, I pulled the dagger from the dead one's head as its body had fallen beside me. I then slammed the dagger into the side of the skull of the beast under me. 

Once my dagger was free again, I crammed the blade into the dog beast's eye hole. Its grip on Marco's leg loosened, but his leg was bleeding horribly by now, as was his side. He seemed to be barely conscious. Luckily, a quick glance around confirmed that the monsters were mostly gone. Only the ones that were surrounding Michael and Robin remained.

Oh, god. Michael and Robin.

 I left Marco where he was, and ran to their aid. About a dozen still remained. I saw Michael swinging his rifle at some of them wildly but I couldn't spot Robin at all from where I was. I started slicing my way through the remainder of a horde, around ten of them. I had lost count and Gacko was concentrating on keeping me going, unable to even comment. With only two remaining, I found myself panting heavily and sweating profusely. The heat was getting to both Michael and I, as was the smoke. I shoved one of the remaining two on the ground and stabbed it in its gaping mouth, but then I heard Michael coughing heavily.

The last creature was looming over him, as Michael couldn't keep himself steady. Just as it was about to impale him with its claw, a bullet came from somewhere nearby, right between its eyes. It fell down onto the ground but neither of us cared about it anymore. We turned our heads to see Robin, slouched up against the wall near the back door, a pool of blood under her, a dead beast by her side and a smoking gun in her hand.

"Robin!" Michael yelled out and rushed towards her while I hurried back to Marco. He had passed out but he was still alive. I pulled him up and limped to the other two along with him.

I stopped and nearly fell to my knees when I got close to Robin. If Marco had been in bad shape, she... Her left arm was completely mangled and entirely unusable. Her legs had been torn into as well, and there was a large hole in her stomach. Her eyes were bleary and blood-shot and a mix of blood and tears flowed down her cheeks. Michael had dropped down next to her, clenching his teeth.

"Fuck... Gotta say, Michael... This might have been one of the worst first dates I've ever been on," she uttered, before coughing and sputtering up blood.  Michael's body was shaking. He didn't even know how to respond but it didn't seem like he had to. Robin gave him a weak smile and glanced towards me.

"Good work, Hank. I'm glad what I taught you wasn't in vain..." she then reached her hand down, towards her bleeding abdomen. "I feel... Awfully weak, though. Hope you two don't mind if I take some rest."

"No... Robin, don't, you can't die as well!" Michael muttered, tears swelling in his eyes. 

"Hey, listen... You're a great kid, Mike. I'm glad I could keep you safe," she said, then reached her hand towards his face. She clasped his cheek, faintly pulling him closer. "All good dates end with a kiss, don't they?"

The two of them locked lips, lit up by the roaring flames surrounding them. It was a gentle kiss, but it lasted for several seconds. From where I stood I saw tears rolling down both of their cheeks.

As Michael pulled back, Robin had stopped moving. 

She had given him her last breath.

 


	22. Escape

"We need to get the hell out of here," I said. Michael stood up, but his hands were shaking and he was panting heavily, barely holding his gun. Shit.

"Michael, I can take the rifle. Grab hold of this guy and I'll take point," I suggested. Mike didn't object, handing over the rifle, then tossing Marco's arm over his shoulder. He was still unconscious but still alive.

Everything had gone from bad to worse, but there was still hope. The fire had done much of the work for us, it seemed. The horde was gone and we couldn't hear a single screech. The back door was still open so I ran out first, aiming my gun to the left, then to the right.

My body then froze up. 

I had to give the left another glance for confirmation - there were what seemed to be like APCs down near the highway, searchlights illuminating that side of town. In the near distance I saw approaching helicopters. They were our only chance at escaping this hellhole.

But that wasn't what made my entire body tense up. To my right I saw the last thing I wanted to encounter right now.

The massive creature who had blocked our exit earlier was still here. It was maybe 20 meters away or so and I could now make out its form. Well, what form it even had. 

It was like a shapeless pile of shifting flesh and ooze at its base, around the width of a bus and the height of a three-storey building. Its entire body seemed to always be in motion, constantly grasping at everything around it with dark, dripping tendrils. On top of this pile of rotten flesh sat its heads. Three of them. They were almost like the exposed skulls of the dog beasts, but much, much larger. Each head was around the size of a small car and all of them moved independently of one another, occasionally knocking against each other and almost rhythmically gnashing their jagged teeth. 

Michael and Marco stepped out of the burning building behind me, which was about when the beast seemed to notice us. 

"Run!" I shouted and grabbed onto Marco's other shoulder, helping Michael along. An ear-shattering roar echoed throughout the town, no doubt attracting the attention of the military ahead as all three of the beast's heads snapped towards us. 

I looked back to see the monster approaching, though it didn't have any visible legs. It was as if the tendrils were pulling it ahead, shooting forward by several meters with the rest of the mass following them like a tidal wave. The beast's skulls continued crashing into each other and roaring, black ooze spewing forth from their maws whenever they opened up their jaws. And with each passing moment, the creature drew closer and closer to us. We weren't going to make it to the military in time, though I could see one of the APCs start heading our way, their path lit up by a helicopter's search lights.

"Michael! Keep going! I-I'll catch up, go get the army guys!" I shouted, letting go of Marco's arm. Michael stopped, turning to face me, wide-eyed.

"Hank, n-" he started to talk.

"Fucking RUN! GO!" I screamed at him. I was crying. Wayne, Dick, Robin... I wasn't going to let Michael die, too. No way, no how! If I was going to get killed, then so be it, but I was not losing him, too. For once, I didn't hear Gacko protest, either. I knew he was just as sick of it all. 

Michael hesitated, but then kept running. I turned to face the creature and pointed my rifle at it.

"Y'know, Hank. If I have to be stuck on someone, I'm glad it's you," Gacko said as the creature drew ever closer.

"Thanks, bud. Guess we're making our stand here," I said through gritted teeth, then roared out as I opened fire. The bullets seemed to have no effect, most of them hitting the beast in the mass of flesh its body was composed of. Some of the shots, however, did strike one of the skulls. The head reeled back, screeching, but  the others, as well as the flesh mass, was upon me now.

The gun was knocked out of my hands and tossed aside by one of the tendrils, while several others wrapped around my body. The air was knocked out from my lungs as a mass of the black ooze hit me in the stomach, molding around me like a massive, disgusting fist. Up close, I could sense the putrid smell of rotten flesh mixed with the stench of iron. I was brought up onto the air and two of the skulls gnashed their teeth at me, and, a split second later, lunged for my head. For a moment I felt almost certain I was dead, closing my eyes, preparing for it to all be over.

Then I heard something. A deep, guttural noise, almost like laughter, from my right. I opened my eyes again, pulling my head back as my face was just inches away from one of the thing's teeth, the tar-like ooze dripping from the gaps. It had stopped, as had the other skull, the third now looming over the other two. I turned my head to where I had heard the noise from just now and saw it.

The fucking eye creature, standing there, on the roof of one of the factories. It was staring me down with all of its many eyes, the spiked appendages extending from its back and shoulders. One of the ones on its shoulder was no more than a stub dripping with acid. Then, almost mockingly, it extended the stub towards me. I could see it begin to regenerate rapidly. It grew, and grew, until it was even longer than the other ones and the spike was just an inch from my own eye.

I shivered, both with fear and anger. This thing was pure evil, now choosing to mock me for even thinking that we might have injured it. I tried to squirm out of the ooze and reach for my dagger. I wanted to fight, or, at the very least, die to anything other than this thing. I didn't want to give it the pleasure of taking _my_ life.

It was then that the dog beast's heads reeled back in unison, and I had to close my eyes again, as one of the search lights illuminated the scene directly. Soon, two more joined in, lighting up the street, the monster, and... When I opened my eyes, the eye creature was gone.

Next thing I knew, the ooze which was holding me began to shift and transform. I grinned. The thing was trying to get away from the light, I thought. I thought I would be saved. Those thoughts quickly dissipated as I felt a sharp pain in my chest, and a distinct lack of air. The ooze had begun to creep up my body, wrapping around it more tightly. I could sense Gacko panic as several of my ribs were crushed by the force.

But it didn't kill me. For some reason, it instead discarded me to the side with immense force. The ooze launched me around a hundred meters, and the pain I felt was made worse as I crashed into the dirt. I coughed up blood onto the ground, and felt the contents of my stomach creeping up for the third time tonight. I shivered again, trying to force myself up, but fell down on my hands and knees again. I could barely move.

In the distance, the beast roared again as the APC got closer. I heard gunfire followed by explosions, but my vision had gone blurry as well. I couldn't tell if I had suffered brain damage or if I was passing out, or if was just the tears in my eyes, but I could barely make out anything.

My sight of the town was further blocked as several dark figures seemed to emerge from practically nowhere. At first, I thought that they were more of the monsters, but Gacko informed me of something much worse.

"It's... It's more of those shadow things," he said.

I clenched my teeth, and took a look around. I was almost surrounded by the things now. Almost. There was an opening behind me, away from both the highway and Jonestown. An opening to the forest.

"...They want me to go there, don't they?" I whispered.

"It seems like it. That forest is off limits, right? Military property," he responded. "It may be a trap, but, shit. Maybe that's where the army came from... And I don't think they'll come help you." 

"What? Why?!"

Another explosion, but a much bigger one this time. I looked towards the city once more to see that the warehouse had collapsed, but not just the warehouse. The factory on which the eye creature had been standing had gone down as well, but it seemed to have gone down on purpose, as it had buried the APC in rubble. My vision had become slightly clearer, and I could see that the massive beast was still alive though one of its skulls was missing entirely. Right now it was tearing into the APC, while another horde was drawing closer from behind it, likely in order to assist it in the fight. 

Gacko was right. I was on my own.

And so, even though every movement caused me immense pain, even though it could all be a trap, and even though I was afraid, I kept crawling. I kept crawling towards the forest, ignoring the signs informing me that the area was off limits and that trespassers would be shot. As I reached the fence, I momentarily felt lost again, until I saw a massive hole in it, surrounded by dead bodies - military personnel, many of them having apparently 'given birth' to the monsters, as well as several of the monsters dead themselves.

I kept crawling, and the shadow beings behind me seemed to stop, forming a half-circle around the hole. They didn't follow me. At the time, I didn't know if the hole in the fence was a sign that the monsters had broken in, or, what would almost be more frightening in my situation - broken _out_ from the forest. But I decided not to dwell on it.

I simply needed to find a safe haven to tend to my wounds. Once everything would blow over, I could get back out, or maybe I would encounter the military, and they'd evacuate me...

How naive I truly was back then.

 

_**TO BE CONTINUED** _

 

 


	23. Epilogue

Michael was sitting in his hospital bed, staring down at the tattoo on his arm. He had woken up just recently, but the sun was already high up in the sky outside. He didn't know for how long he had already been sitting like that, but it had been a while.

Hank was alive.

Michael himself was heavily bandaged, his shoulder was in a cast and his side had been stitched up. The doctors were expecting him to remain in hospital for months. He felt weak, miserable and defeated.

But Hank was alive.

Somehow that idiot had survived. There was no other logical explanation for his tattoo still being there. Where Dick and Wayne's circles had been before, only scabs now remained. To Michael it felt as though they ached so much more than any other part of his body. They always would.

Michael's thoughts were disturbed by a very, _very_ light knock on the door. He looked up as the door opened and in stepped... Essentially a mummy.

"Is it fine if I come in?" the man asked. His head was heavily bandaged, his rather short hair only slightly covering it up, and his leg was in a cast much like Michael's. His hands were covered in bandages and from the wince he gave as he tucked one of his crutches under his armpit, it seemed that his side had suffered as well. It took Michael several long, awkward moments to realize that this was the guy he had pulled out from that burning warehouse.

"...You already did," he finally responded. "How did you _get here_?"

This was a question the guy had clearly been hoping he wouldn't have to answer. "I snuck out from my room while the doctors were out. The guard outside my room had fallen asleep at some point."

"And the crutches?"

"I borrowed them."

Michael paused, then snickered. "Well, that all is certainly impressive, but... Why are you here?"

The man hobbled forwards, closer to Michael's bed. "I came here to thank you. I owe my life to you and your friend, may God bless his soul."

Michael opened his mouth, but caught himself before he blurted out something stupid. This guy didn't need to know more than he did. As such, he simply nodded.

"But I doubt that couldn't have waited until you weren't this close to collapsing. Is there something else?" Michael asked.

"...Yes. From what I gathered, you convinced your father to take me to this hospital as well rather than leave me with the military. I doubt the armed guard outside my room was also there entirely for my _protection_. I'm willing to guess the mess isn't quite over yet, is it?"

Michael sighed and shook his head. "Far from it. Have they interrogated you yet?"

"Interro- No. No, they have not. Will they?" He asked, visibly concerned.

"Undoubtedly. You seem clever enough, so I'll tell you three things you need to remember when they do." Michael said, his fist clenching slightly. "One. You know nothing about what created those things."

There was a short pause as Michael waited for the man to protest. He didn't.

"Two. You firmly _believe_ that the Red Crows caused all of it."

This time he spoke up.

"But... Doesn't that kind of go against the first thing?"

"The Red Crows supposedly developed it, but there's no way they made it in the first place. They got it from somewhere. With how my father acted when I came across him at first, I... Have some suspicions."

"You mean-"

"Third! Hank was an ordinary guy who injected that substance and then died. Forget everything you saw him do, for his and my own sake. Play dumb. Act forgetful. Give them nothing. Better yet, forget as much of it as you can," Michael said, interrupting the man before he could speak up again.

After a moment, he nodded. "Got it."

He then turned around, clambering towards the door. He stopped and turned his head back to face Michael, looking down.

"...I'm sorry about the girl. Your fri- Hank went back to save me, when he should've..."

"When he should've died anyway. What's your name?" Michael interrupted him again, taking him by surprise.

"I- uh- Marco. My name is Marco."

"Marco. If you truly believe you owe me, I believe I have a certain proposition."

 

I don't know how long I had crawled for that night. All I know is that by the time I finally stopped, my face falling into the dirt and leaves below me, my hands were blackened by dirt and my fingers were beyond sore.

I slumped against the nearest tree and the bag slipped down from my shoulder, landing beside me with a thud.

I was done.

I shivered as the cold air surrounded me. I needed shelter, but there was none in sight. I wasn't going any further with the shape I was in. I needed to rest, just for a minute.

"Hank. How are you holding up?" Gacko asked.

"Awful... Everything... Hurts..." I muttered.

"I'm afraid it's going to get worse. You need to keep going unless you want to die from hypothermia after all of that."

"I can't, Gacko. I... I fucking _can't_!"

"I know. Grab that branch next to you, Hank," he instructed me.

Confused, I picked the branch up. It was rather thick and seemed to be pretty sturdy.

"I can use the last bit of my energy to heal you up some," he continued, "but that means I won't be alleviating the pain anymore."

"You're... Alleviating the pain right now?" I asked between gasps.

"I am."

I looked down at the branch in my hands. I then let out a lone chuckle before placing the thing between my teeth.

"Do me your worst."

 

Michael was looking out the window when the door to his hospital room opened yet again, this time with no knock. To little surprise, it was his father dressed in a three-piece suit.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," Michael noted.

"I'm sure you were. You're a smart kid," he said, sauntering over to his son's bed and taking a seat beside it. "I was worried for you, you know."

"You seemed for a lot of things aside from my health when I saw you."

The man's lip momentarily twitched. In an instant, his entire demeanor seemed to change, something which Michael had never seen before.

"I won't play nice with you on this, boy. I knew you had gotten into some rather nasty habbits behind my back, but joining a gang and commiting the attrocities you did that night..."

"Attrocities..?" Michael asked, surprised by his father's words.

"...Not just any gang, but a well known domestic terrorist group known as 'The Red Crows'. How ashamed I am as a father to..."

"What the fuck are you on about!?"

His father grinned, looking him up and down. "The military needs a scapegoat. And, frankly, so do I. It's entirely because you're such a clever kid that I know you can add one and one together. I know you won't believe that all you saw was some hallucination or something your mind came up with to cover up the horrors. But it's also because you're so _clever_ that I will tell you now to keep it shut."

"You're pinning the entire thing on just a terror attack done by the Crows..."

"And far as all things are considered, that's what it boils down to," he said, then stood up as quickly as he had sat down. "So you will keep. It. Shut. I do not need the world to think I raised a deranged son, but if that's what it comes to, so be it."

"None of this..."

"Makes any sense? It shouldn't. And it won't. But you don't need to worry about it. Starting next year, you'll be moving to North Dakota and attending a private boarding school. I can vouch for its credibility. Don't you worry about that."

"A boarding school? Really?"

"Yes. Really. And you'll be accompanied there by my men. Just know that if you make one step out of line, even just _one_ wrong move, well. I truly _won't_ have a son anymore."

The two of them stared each other down. Finally, Michael laughed through clenched teeth.

"Fine. So be it. I'll play by your stupid rules, father. But I do have just one condition."

"Which is?"

"One of those men accompanying me will be Marco. The guy I had you bring to this hospital."

"What-"

This time, it was Michael's turn to cut off his father. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're trying to avoid a scandal. Something that could bring too much unwanted attention to _your_ business? Surely, it'd be best for you to make sure that you can keep an eye on as many of the people that were in Jonestown as possible, no?"

The man stared down his son once again. "And what's in it for you?"

"For all I care, you can call it altruism."

 

**Terror In Jonestown Leaves Town In Ruins**

On March 13th the United States suffered the worst act of terror in its history. A radical group known as "The Red Crows", already well-known by government authorities as a threat to national security, seized control of the city of Jonestown, Maine for over 12 hours. The group disabled the entire town's power grid, leaving the town without electricity or a way of communicating with the outside world as all nearby cell towers had been premptively shut down.

According to law enforcement, the group had placed numerous explosives throughout the city, set to explode at various intervals. Though clear information is scarce, current reports indicate that the city was left in ruins. In a town of over twenty thousand, only a little over a hundred survivors have been confirmed at this time. Said survivors are currently being held under military protection.

Responsibility for the attack has reportedly been claimed by the recently formed islamic fundamentalist group "Yd Alnabii". Government officials have not been able to confirm nor deny their claims, though rumors state that "The Red Crows" had ties to various South-American drug cartels.

The country prays for the lives lost during this tragedy as the struggle continues to rescue...

 

Backston slowly opened his eyes. His vision was blurry, but it wasn't just that - one of his eyes had gone completely blind. In a panic the mayor of Jonestown looked around to find himself still in the wreckage of his car. It didn't seem like any of the beasts which had chased him were still on his tail. As a matter of fact, everything seemed quiet aside from distant screetching and the sound of sizzling fires somwehere nearby.

As the driver side door had been smashed inwards Backston had to crawl across the seats in order to get out. He winced as his left arm pressed against the seat. He looked down at it to see that it had almost completely necrotized, leaving blackened, dead flesh. As he moved along, that flesh stuck to the leather of the seats, peeling off and staying there. It wasn't as painful as it was disturbing.

He made it to the door and shoved it open. Backston then stumbled out, falling face-down onto the asphalt. He stood up shakily, grasping at his face only now realizing he had lost his glasses. And yet he was much more concerned with the fact that his right eye didn't feel much like anything anymore.

Frightened, the man looked into his car mirror. As he saw his own blurred reflection, he began to laugh. Quietly at first, before breaking out into manic cackling which echoed through the empty streets.

Maybe this was what he deserved.

Maybe this was the world's way of paying back for all he had done wrong in his life.

Maybe life was just a bitch.

The mayor of hell clutched at his arm and started to hobble down the street. There was something wrong with his leg but he didn't even look down. The fact that he was still alive was a miracle already. If this was the way it was going to be, he wasn't going to go down easy, oh no. He just needed to find another car. A working car.

And yet, the streets laid empty. Whatever cars were still around had already been torn apart by these monsters or set ablaze as a result of some horrible accident. Backston knew that without a car, he was as good as dead. If just a single one of those freaks found him like this, he was dead.

He needed a way out. A nearby manhole gave him the cleverest idea.

If he could just get down into the sewers, he could make it to the outskirts in one piece. Then he'd just need to get to the highway and he'd be saved!

This plan came to him just in the nick of time. A group of monsters appeared on the horizon, drawing closer to him. Backston hurried his step and fell once more. A sharp pain just below his knee indicated that his leg was nigh useless now.

Determined to survive, he kept going. He started crawling. Each time his blackened hand clawed at the ground it left a black-and-red mark on the asphalt. With each time, there was less and less of his arm left. He finally made it to the manhole. A brief glance up ahead informed him that the group was still getting closer. One of the dog-like creatures had taken the lead.

Backston pulled a pen knife from his pocket and jammed it on the side of the manhole. He just had to pry it open. He pushed against the blade as hard as he could, he just needed to lift if a little...

The knife snapped in two, leaving Backston with a broken handle in his hands and a terrified expression on his face. He screamed and tried jamming his fingers in the side of the cover. He scratched at it, he tried to widen the gap on the side with his broken blade and, eventually, he just started smacking his fists against the metal. All the while his hand continued to fall apart. Panting, he looked down at one last time to simply see an oozing stump. Tears in his one working eye, Backston looked up ahead one last time. The dog beast was just about to pounce on him.

Somewhere above, several jets flew over.

The last thing Backston saw before his other eye went out was the first bomb dropped on Jonestown, just a few hundred meters away, right on top of the group of monsters.

One final moment of satisfaction.

 

 

I looked out from the shallow cave I had found as I heard the sound of water dropplets striking the leaves above. A few moments later, the drizzle turned to rain, the rain to downpour, and the downpour to a massive thunder storm which drowned out every other sound. 

I covered myself in the remnants of my cloak. I was still so cold. I didn't think I would sleep that night. I didn't think I would ever sleep again.

Minutes later I was out like a light.

And yet I had no hope for a better tomorrow left in me.

 

 

 

 


End file.
